The Descent To Avernus
by Petronius
Summary: Buffy and the Scoobies mount a rescue effort to free Giles from the Demon Dimension. In their journey to Hell and beyond one thing is certain. They will not be returning to the world they knew.  Sequel to The Better Path.
1. Prologue

**The Descent to Avernus**

_**by  
>Gaius Petronius<strong>_

DISCLAIMER:  
>Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. Only Anson MacDuffie is mine but Mutant Enemy can have him any time they want him.<p>

**A note at the beginning -**  
>The sequel to <span>The Better Path<span>, The Descent to Avernus appeared originally in script format on the Slayer Fanfic Archive in late season 3, 1999 and has been long unavailable. Heavily influenced by the massacre at Columbine High School which occurred at the same time, the story was dedicated with love and hope to the children of Littleton, Colorado.

**THE DESCENT TO AVERNUS**  
>by Gaius Petronius<p>

"Oftentimes, Hell is really our own private place, deep in our minds. We create it and dwell there of our own free will until we choose to take a better path and step back out into the world." - Rupert Giles

"The descent to Avernus is easy." - Virgil

**PROLOGUE - Munich Wants Gold**

**Somewhere in the desert of the Sinai Peninsula. Early morning, 1890.**

The morning sun blazed down furiously from a brilliant blue sky over the wastelands of the Sinai Peninsula. This was not the classic desert of rolling sand dunes found in Arabia or the Sahara but rather a nightmare desolation of twisted rocks, jagged mountain tops and dust, everywhere dust.

Deep in a ravine beneath two ridges that converged in a towering peak, was nestled a small circle of tents, an archeological expedition, huddled around the false shelter of an outcropping of boulders. About a hundred yards away down the ravine, dust rose from an area where approximately a dozen Arab workers were digging. Two men in pith helmets, clearly Europeans, stood to the side overseeing the work. One was very tall and elderly, the other middle aged and of average height.

Finally the older of the two could no longer take the heat and dust. He left the work crew and climbed awkwardly over the stones and rubble back towards the encampment. After a moment, the other followed him.

Dr. Anton Furtwangler, Professor of Archeology at the University of Munich, entered the tent and stumbled over to a cloth camp chair. He sat down, exhausted. A moment later he was joined in the tent by Dr. Theodore Momsen, Professor of Classical Studies from the University of Heidelberg.

Furtwangler breathed heavily as he rested in the chair. Finally he took off his helmet and dropped it on the tent floor. The sweat poured down his forehead.

"Should I call in the laborers?" Momsen asked after a few moments, "There's no use continuing, Anton. The message the runner brought this morning was very clear. Munich will send no more money."

"Damn them!" Furtwangler cursed as kicked his helmet across the tent floor, "All they want to see is gold! It's that miserable Schliemann and his cheap publicity tricks! Troy! Mycenae!"

Momsen waited patiently as his frail colleague vented his anger and frustration.

"And gold, nothing but gold! Agamemnon's treasure! Hah! Doesn't matter that Schliemann's dating is all wrong!"

"Anton . . ." Momsen said gently.

"No, Teo, the only reason Munich backed this expedition was the chance we would discover the remains of the golden idol! Don't you see? He's made it impossible to carry on real research in the field anymore."

Furtwangler sat forward and leaned towards a table near his chair. Its work surface was covered with potsherds and small fragments of stone.

"It's not gold and gems that speak to us of the past. It's these . . ."

Furtwangler reached out to the table and picked up a potsherd. He held it out in front of him for Momsen to see.

"Who held this small water jug?" the elderly archeologist asked wistfully as if remembering a distant time, "Was there enough left in it to quench their thirst in this furnace of Hell? . . . they were lost, frightened. How long would it be before their leader returned from the mountain? To what desperate straits were they all finally reduced?"

Momsen glanced down and didn't answer. The look of skepticism was clearly visible on his face.

"This _is_ the place, Teo! I know it!" Furtwangler exclaimed sensing his co-worker's doubt, "The traces of the encampment, the blasted crater, the scorch marks on everything!"

Furtwangler put down the potsherd and reached for a small shred of cloth wrapped around a stone fragment. He unwrapped the cloth, taking care not to touch the tiny stone. Black charring the result of extreme heat coated the stone's edges. On the flat field of the stone appeared the incomplete carving of an ancient Hebrew character, broken off at the stone's edge. Both archeologists leaned forward to study the fragment.

"Teo, this might even be a piece . . . a piece of the first destroyed tablets . . . touched by the finger of the great Creative Force."

Furtwangler held up the fragment, the look in his eyes almost pleading with Momsen for belief.

"Anton . . ." Momsen said, the tone in his voice unable to hide his skepticism."

" But we'll never know, will we," Furtwangler sighed as he placed the wrapped fragment back down on the table, "Because Munich wants gold . . . funny how history repeats itself."

Momsen tried to be enthusiastic.

"If you believe so strongly, then we'll return next year. We'll find another patron."

"No . . . it's done, Teo. I'm tired . . . ever since Anya died . . . It's time I went home."

Momsen nodded.

"I'll go tell the men to stop the dig and begin breaking camp."

Furtwangler moved his head slowly in agreement. Momsen left the tent, and Furtwangler sat alone. He slowly reached out for the cloth wrapped stone fragment, grasping it in his hand gently almost reverently once more.

"Forgive us . . . " he spoke quietly to the tiny piece of dirty cloth and the object it contained, "We are a foolish little people, just as they were. . . . Why is it nothing ever seems to change? You are a fragment of all the hopes and dreams of the human race. Hopes and dreams we, in our greed and desperation, long ago rejected and today reject once more . . . But You are patient. I know it is not through me that You will work Your miracle . . . but through one . . . yet to come . . ."

Furtwangler sat silently in the tent. A rising breeze stirred the tent walls and door flaps to snapping sharply, straining against their guide ropes. Outside, the heat beat down unmercifully on the laborers as they began the job of breaking down the camp. The blowing dust hid the view of the mountain peak looming overhead and almost obscured the rays of the sun itself.

. . . . . . .

Rupert Giles sat asleep at his desk, his face down in a pile of manuscripts. Both his office and the library were pitch dark. The only source of illumination was the red "Exit" sign over the library door. The color of the sign appeared almost blood like, and it seemed to float in the air over the door.

Suddenly, shattering the silence, an explosion rocked the darkness in the stacks of the library. Several bookshelves collapsed in a whirling ball of flame. The wild shriek of the school fire alarm caused Giles to sit bolt upright. He looked around in panic. Mingled with the blaring alarm were human cries in the library. Giles knocked over his chair and scrambled out of his office, directly into the waiting arms of two vampires. He struggled wildly but the vampires held him back. Everywhere he looked there were vampires.

Illuminated by the blaze of burning books and manuscripts, a nightmare scene confronted Giles. Two battles raged before him and a third was already over. Across the library near the door, Cordelia and Xander lay sprawled on the floor. A spreading pool of blood flowed away from their bodies. Her throat was slit. He had been run through with a sword, and in a final futile defense of her, had fallen across her lifeless form, as if his body could still offer her some protection.

At the foot of the check out desk, Willow lay slowly writhing in her death throes, a stake through her heart. Over her, Oz, now transformed into his werewolf subconscious, roared and swung violently at a group of four vampires trying to approach them. His clawed fist swept out, slashing open one attacker's neck. As the injured vampire dropped to its knees, the others just pushed it aside. Beneath Oz's furry legs, Willow finally stopped moving. In the light of the blazing books, a large bloodstain spreading from her wound took on the same hue as her red hair.

In an instant, four more vampires, armed with crossbows, burst through the library doors. They released a hail of darts at Oz who was thrown back against the check out desk by the impact. He slowly slid to the floor. As he did, he changed back into his human form, tipped forward and dropped across Willow's body. Both now lay still.

"NO!" the Watcher bellowed in the grip of the vampires.

As if in answer from out of the flames, leaped Buffy and Angel. In the middle of the library they stood back to back, fending off repeated attacks by vampires from all sides. Buffy's fists and feet few, the power of the blows forcing each attacker to crumple in an ever rising mound in front of her. For a few moments, she and Angel managed to hold their own.

Without warning, Angel broke off his defense and turned to her back. His face transformed, his fangs suddenly extending. He grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her to face him and sank his fangs into her neck. There was only a momentary look of shock and surprise on Buffy's face as he drew the life from her before she slumped dead in his arms.

Angel, his mouth smeared with Buffy's blood, looked up at Giles and grinned hideously.

"Mmm. That was worth waiting for!" the vampire smacked his lips.

"BUFFY!" Giles screamed.

Angel swept her corpse up in his arms and carried it across the library to stand in front of Giles. As if dropping a piece of cast off luggage, Angel let Buffy's body fall unceremoniously to the floor before Giles. The librarian ceased struggling. The vampires released him, and he slid weakly to his knees beside the dead Slayer.

"And this was just the teaser!" Angel grinned at Giles.

As if by an unseen command, Angel and the other vampires suddenly left the room. Flames licked upwards to the ceiling, casting a red glow of blood and fire across the Watcher's kneeling form. Giles bent forward silently over Buffy. The crackle of the flames destroying the library and the shriek of the fire alarm blasted in his ears.

Suddenly, from behind him, a grey corpse-like hand came to rest on his shoulder. He looked up in shock at the form of Scott Hope standing over him. He was pale with the color of death, his face bruised and beaten with an enormous gash running across his forehead.

But behind the death mask, Scott's intense blue eyes still gazed out, and the life in them reined in Giles' fear.

"Scott?"

"Sshh! I only have a moment before I am found!"

Scott knelt down beside Giles and ran his hand tenderly over Buffy's blood drenched forehead_. _

"This is not real . . ." he said, "None of this . . . is real. He wants to break you . . . and He's using your own Hell to do it . . . a demon built from the wreckage of a Watcher would be a prize of great price to Him. He can manipulate events, . . . terrorize us with our fears, . . . but He cannot alter reality . . . and before truth, He is powerless."

Giles shook his head_._

"I . . . I don't understand! Where am I?"

Scott held Giles more firmly by the shoulder.

"Look around you! What do you see!"

Giles, his face still twisted with panic and fear, stared at the blazing ruin of the library.

"No! You're seeing what _He_ wants you to see!"

Suddenly Scott glanced behind him in terror as if he had been discovered.

"There's one other thing . . . " his words came in a rush as he looked up in fright, "He knows! He knows I'm here! . . . Giles, they're coming to save you! I can see them! Buffy, Willow and the others! I'll guide them to you! Please! Don't give up!"

"But Scott . . . !"

Before Giles could complete the sentence, an unseen force suddenly twisted Scott's head. There was a loud snap as he crumpled to the floor of the library, dropping beside Buffy's blood stained body. Scott's arms reached out across her as if shielding the Slayer from the invisible entity that destroyed him. As Giles stared at their battered forms, he could still hear Scott's voice speaking in a distant echo. Giles glanced wildly around, trying to identify the source of the words as they quickly faded away.

"Buffy and the others! They're coming! The Gates lie! There _is_ Hope, even in this place! Don't give up!"

Giles slowly stood as Scott's voice vanished. The library was now fully engulfed in flames. Blazing timbers dropped from the ceiling, crashing down amidst the remaining bookshelves that still stood. The swirling blaze rapidly overwhelmed the prostrate forms of Xander, Cordelia, Willow and Oz. Their flesh began to peel back from the intense heat revealing the jagged bones beneath.

From out of the dancing tongues of fire hideous laughter, like a barrage of speeding arrows, suddenly rang out through the library.

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Welcome, Mr. Giles!"

A stern look of anger and resolve replaced the fear and panic on Giles' face.

"So . . . it _is_ you . . ." the Watcher said defiantly as he straightened up to his full height.

"That was fun!" the demonic voice answered, "Let's do it again!"

_To be continued!_


	2. Chapter 1  Secrets

**The Descent to Avernus **

_**by  
>Gaius Petronius<strong>_

DISCLAIMER:  
>Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and every once in a while, torture them.<p>

**CONTENT NOTE**  
>The following story contains scenes of graphic violence and a little raunchy language. The sequel to The Better Path, The Descent to Avernus appeared originally in script format on the Slayer Fanfic Archive in late season 3, 1999. Heavily influenced by the Columbine High School massacre which occurred at the same time, the story was dedicated with love and hope to the children of Littleton, Colorado.<p>

Chapter 1 - Secrets

Giles was dead. Or at least it looked that way. To be more accurate, the Angel of Death had carried Buffy's Watcher off to the Demon Dimension. Add to that Scott Hope, who was now swept away to Hell as well for defending Buffy, and you had the makings for a pretty lousy weeknight even by Sunnydale standards.

All of which would explain why Buffy intended to take it to the one responsible, Ethan Rayne. Left with no choice, Willow and Faith had to throw her out of Cordelia's red convertible on the way back from the demolition of the old Dearborne Mansion. After all, the Slayerettes couldn't very well squeeze information out of a weasel like Ethan Rayne if his neck was broken. Unfortunately, he was the key to the puzzle since Ethan was the only one still alive who could read the dangerous Luxor Necropolis Text that had been used to summon the Angel of Death.

Buffy promised she wouldn't kill him, only hurt him real bad. She begged, she pleaded. Faith called her a liar and that started the back seat squabbling all over again. The feuding Slayers had just settled on a truce over who got the "hungriest" after a busy night on patrol. Somehow Willow won that designation, no one was sure exactly how.

Cordelia yanked the steering wheel hard to the right. The candy apple red convertible screeched to a stop by the cemetery north gate. The door flew open, Willow yelled "OUT!" and in an instant Buffy was left standing at the curb in a cloud of the convertible's dust.

A few minutes later, Buffy ended up sitting by herself on the green grass of a rolling slope in the cemetery. Her knees were tucked up in front of her and her arms wrapped around them. Before her, the well-manicured lawn marked by stones and monuments, slipped away gently down the hill. A spreading canopy of trees shaded Jennie Calendar's headstone next to where Buffy sat. It was a warm, beautiful day with only an occasional breeze to rustle the leaves of the trees.

At first she had been mad for being ditched by Cordelia, Faith and Willow. But that passed quickly. Now she wasn't sad or brooding but rather just thoughtful. The warm breeze, the bright sunshine, the green grass, all were somehow reassuring, and the stones, particularly Jennie's, more like company. She didn't even realize that she was talking quietly to the silent stone.

". . . so, Willow's gonna use that Egyptian text thing Giles had and figure out how we'll get him out of the Demon Dimension. She'll be my new Watcher, Faith's too . . . well just for awhile . . . until we get Giles back . . . you know, it's funny, I never knew how to talk to you when you were . . . alive."

The gentle breeze picked up and stirred the leaves overhead. Xander wandered down a path from behind in the trees, but stopped a few yards away from Buffy. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't even realize he was there. He eavesdropped for a while on the one sided conversation.

" . . . It was all wrong . . . I know that now. I don't understand it, . . . but I know it. I mean, Angel's back, and I'm happy for that and everything but . . . everybody's torn apart because of what I did. Willow, she's hurting inside real bad. She won't show it. She's acting tough, trying to keep us all together. And Oz and Cordelia . . . and Xander won't even talk to me."

Xander smiled. He wasn't gloating over revenge or even a real life game of "Gotcha Last!" He had just been so hurt and angry he had to give the Slayer a dose of her own medicine. That was a few hours ago. With the shock of both Giles' and Scott's deaths now firmly settled in, it all seemed pointless.

"And although I know here," Buffy tapped right over her heart with her fist, "We're gonna get Giles back . . . you can count on that! . . . nothing'll ever be the same again . . . 'cause Scott's gone forever . . . there's no way he'll ever return . . . and I'd give anything . . . just to have a moment to tell him . . . "

Buffy stopped and hung her head. The grin left Xander's face. He wanted to say something, crack a joke or anything to cheer her up but instead he stayed respectfully silent and just listened.

"I don't understand . . . I thought it was all for love . . . but it's destroyed everything, so many people I do love so much . . . how can it be love . . . if all it brings is pain and death? I'm scared it's something else. And it hurts . . . it hurts real bad."

Suddenly, Buffy sensed she was being watched. She gave a little gasp as she looked around and saw Xander. He smiled as he stepped forward out of the shade of the trees and put his hand on Jennie's stone.

"Talkin' to yer bud, again?" he said quietly with empathy.

"How long you been standing there?" she asked, not angry and a little relieved to have some live company.

"Not long. Just got here."

"Liar," Buffy grinned.

"Yeah. I figured I'd better come looking for you," Xander said as he sat down beside her in the freshly cut grass.

"So . . . at least you're speaking to me again, huh?" Buffy asked hopefully. He nodded back.

"Can't stay pissed off at a Slayer too long. They're such a fuzzy friendly bunch."

Buffy grinned again, and for a moment neither said anything.

"I'm not mad at you, ya know," he said, "I mean I am, but I'm not. I just don't get what's going on in your head, Buff. Never have, but hey, that's always been you. You're Buffy."

"Duh!" she couldn't resist responding to the quintessential Xander logic.

Xander smiled and shook his head. Buffy considered what she was about to say for a few moments.

"Xander . . ." she finally said, "You gotta promise you won't tell anyone what you heard here. This was like real private stuff." Xander detected the quiet but pleading tone in her voice.

"Sure," he flipped off without a second thought. The old Xander was back; whatever Buffy wanted was hers. Buffy misunderstood and didn't believe him. She was still wary after the way he had brushed her off at the old Mansion.

"No, I mean it, really," she said.

"What? You don't think the Harris nerves of steel and mind like a vice can keep one little secret locked up?"

"Oh, what's the use," she replied having little faith in his self-professed abilities, "The minute you leave here, you'll be blabbing to Cordelia and Willow."

"Buffy!" he answered with mock seriousness, "You think I'd damage our friendship, not to mention blow any future chances I might have with you, by revealing a confidence? Now I'm offended!"

"Right . . ." she muttered at the same time giving him a look she often reserved exclusively for particularly dim witted vampires or Cordelia Chase. Xander saw it and knew he had to prove himself worthy that instant. The Xander logic kicked in again.

"Hey, I got a deal for you," he offered, "I'll tell _you_ a secret and if I blow my mouth off, . . . you can nail me and tell everyone."

"Oh yeah, what's your big secret?" Buffy asked sarcastically, "How you wet your bed until you were six?"

"Hey! How'd you know?"

"Willow."

"Aw, man! . . . but that's not it," he said quietly after a moment, "It's about Willow . . . and me."

Xander suddenly had Buffy's attention. She looked at him intently as he scraped his shoe on the ground in front of him.

". . . and how I feel about her."

Buffy's eyes widened.

"Big enough secret?" he asked after a long pause.

"Yeah," Buffy nodded eagerly.

"Promise not to tell?"

"Okay," she answered barely above a whisper.

"Me, too . . ." he smiled back.

Buffy settled in, her attention riveted on Xander.

"You know, Willow and I go way back," he began slowly, "We were always best buds . . . and more. She was like my kid sister. Hell, I even punched out a guy once that teased her about her red hair and made her cry. That was my first detention. In kindergarten."

"You got detention? . . ." Buffy exclaimed, not believing what she heard, "In kindergarten!"

"Yeah, pretty cool, huh," Xander grinned smugly.

Smiling, Buffy shook her head. As she did, she noticed the expression on Xander's face change. When he spoke again it was with a slower, more reflective tone of voice.

"But then . . ." he continued looking down at the grass once more, "Before Homecoming, we were getting ready together and I saw her all dressed up . . . Something happened, Buffy. It wasn't my old Willow. I mean it was and all but . . ."

"She grew up on you, Xander," Buffy said sympathetically as she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, no kidding! She was . . . wow! That's when 'the thing' started between us. Before that, I had been so rotten to her. I know she had this thing for me but when I tried to kiss her after summer vacation, all I could think of was I was kissing my sister. And then Cordy came along and the broom closets. I saw Will crying once, Buffy. It tore me to pieces. I tried to make it up to her but I had hurt her so bad. I loved her Buff, but not that way."

"I know," Buffy said quietly to fill the empty space she felt was coming. She followed his gaze to the spot in the grass where he nervously scuffed his shoe.

"But after Homecoming something really changed . . . if Faith hadn't caught us at the Bronze . . ." Xander looked up and almost whispered, "We would've done it, Buffy . . . gone all the way. We wouldn't have cared who we hurt. Oz, Cordelia, the hell with 'em. All I knew was I wanted my best bud . . . to be my first lover . . . and she did, too."

That was the bombshell. Buffy had suspected it but never openly admitted it to herself.

"Bad thing," she said, sucking in her breath between her teeth and shaking her head at the same time.

Suddenly a thought came to Buffy. Although she spoke to Xander, her face looked as if she were talking about herself.

"Maybe it wasn't love . . ." the Slayer said as much to Jennie's grave as to her friend by her side.

"No, it was . . . but not a good kind of love. I've been thinking about this a lot since Giles died. I saw somewhere that love isn't good or bad all by itself. It's just this incredibly powerful force, and it's what we do with it that makes it 'good' or 'bad.'"

Buffy looked away from Xander. She thought carefully about what he was saying.

"Wow . . . I never saw it that way . . ." she finally answered quietly. Xander continued his confession.

"Then I realized that the love I wanted for me and Willow . . . it was bad . . . real bad. I mean it was gonna wreck everything! Oz, Cordy . . . even you."

"Me? Naah!" Buffy waved off his concern, "What you guys do with your smootchies is none of my . . ."

"No?" Xander interrupted, "You might have still treated me the same way, high class jerk that I am . . . but don't tell me it wouldn't have changed how you got along with Will."

"I wouldn't _like_ it," Buffy said and she noticed a sharp little pang in her chest as she said it, "But, hey, I'd just have to deal."

Xander shook his head.

"You wouldn't look up to her the way you do now. She's _your_ best bud. . . . and then something even worse came to me. What happens when we finally break up?"

Buffy, surprised by his remark, looked back at Xander.

"Yeah! Break up," he emphasized, "You think something like that would last? That kind of relationship, it's like you light the fuse, and run like hell. And then you duck for the explosion!"

Buffy stared seriously at Xander. She waited for him to continue.

"We'd have had a few months rocking the block . . . and then it would all change again, go sour. But there'd be nothing left to go back to 'cause we'd blown everyone off, everyone who was _really_ important to us. We'd be all alone . . . not even have each other. No, it was bad. The whole thing was a disaster from the start. . . maybe you're right, Buff. Maybe it wasn't love."

Xander sat quietly for a moment.

"So . . . what're ya gonna do now?" Buffy finally asked.

"I gotta figure out how Will and I can get back to being best buds. 'Cause I do love her Buffy. I don't know what kind of love it is, but when she's hurting . . . it just kills me. Love's not supposed to hurt people like that."

"Yeah, it's not supposed to, but it does a lot," she admitted, "I think you probably found the good kind, though."

Both Buffy and Xander were silent for a few moments. Finally, Buffy spoke quietly, looking out at the cemetery grounds rather than at him beside her.

"Xander . . . remember when you and Cordelia came looking for me at the old mansion?"

"Yeah."

"I was there. I heard everything you said about me and Angel."

"I know," he said as gently as he could.

Surprised, she glanced up at him.

"I mean, I didn't see you or anything . . . but I could tell."

She took a deep breath, almost afraid to ask.

"Did you really mean all that stuff you said about Angel?"

Xander didn't want to say what he had been thinking. He knew he wouldn't score any Slayer points by dissing Angel, but he realized at this moment he had to tell her the truth. Valuing her friendship that he hoped eventually would develop into something more, he owed her at least that. If she didn't understand now, one day she might.

"You know I got no soft spots for Dead Boy, but . . . Geez, Buff, can't you see it? You guys, you're like what Willow and I were gonna do, only ten times worse. "

He could see immediately his words struck home. The Slayer hung her head.

"Aw, shit, Buffy. I'm sorry," he tried to back peddle. "When things go wrong, I just get so pissed off and shoot my mouth off and . . ."

"No, no . . ."she interrupted him as she gazed out down the grassy slope, "You're right, you know."

"I am?" he looked up at her, astonished at the unexpected victory that was still only bitter sweet.

"Yeah. Trouble is, it's one thing to know it. It's another thing to have the strength to do something about it."

"I guess Will and I got off easy. I really ought to thank Faith for busting it up," Xander nodded.

For a few moments neither of them spoke. Finally Xander broke the peaceful silence.

"So, . . . big enough secret for ya?"

Buffy thought as the breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

"No," she finally replied.

Xander couldn't believe his ears. He had just spilled his guts.

"What!"

"Xander . . . you can't use that secret," she said gently, looking him right in the eyes as she took his hand and squeezed it with a little extra Slayer's strength, "That's the one you gotta tell Willow."

"Oh, . . . yeah I guess you're right," he admitted and marveled at how, at certain moments, Buffy could see into his soul and that was really why he still hoped someday she would be more than just a friend.

"Well, you can still use the one about the bed wetting," he cracked.

Buffy grinned, acknowledging the "moment" and then letting it pass as she shook her head.

"That's okay, I'll let you off the hook this time," she popped back.

Again, both sat sharing a comfortable silence. Finally Buffy looked out at the sunny slope, paused and spoke as if she were remarking on the weather or the time of day.

". . . Cordelia's a shithead . . ."

Xander's face tipped up in surprise. He waited a beat.

"Uh, . . . although I'm in tune with that feeling right now, I'm a little puzzled. Where did that one come from?"

"You may be a pig, Xander . . . but you got a big heart," Buffy said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "And Cordelia's a real jerk face to throw that away. You're the best thing that ever happened to her."

"Thanks . . . I need the ego boost right about now."

"You guys still doing the 'pretend' thing?"

"Yeah," Xander said as he scratched his head, "Just until we figure out how to talk to each other again."

Suddenly Buffy leaped to her feet as if a vampire had taken a swing at her from behind.

"Oh Man! I forgot," she shouted, "I didn't even tell you! We got research stuff this afternoon and tonight! Willow thinks she may be able to figure out how to get Giles back! Come on!"

"You're shitting me!" he jumped up with her.

"We gotta find Oz! Faith, Willow and Cordelia are paying a little _visit_ to Ethan Rayne right now."

Buffy and Xander walked briskly back up the path under the trees away from Jennie's grave.

"What do they want with that weasel?" Xander asked.

"He knows how to translate the Necropolis text that Giles had," Buffy answered as she started to run, "Willow figures it's got the key to everything."

Xander broke into a jog to keep up as the Slayer pulled ahead. He knew if she upped the pace to a sprint it would be all over.

"Oh!" she called over her shoulder to Xander as he lagged, "And Willow's gonna be our Watcher, too. Just for a while, though."

"Hey, Buff, how come you aren't in on the Rayne action?" he panted as they reached the cemetery gate, "He's not exactly your favorite person."

Xander stopped to catch his breath.

"They wouldn't let me go," Buffy confessed quietly as she waited with him.

"What's that?" Xander asked surprised between gasps.

"Willow kicked me outta the car, okay! She said, I'd probably be too rough."

"Noo!"

. . . . . . .

Cordelia relished the pleasurable sensation of her clenched fist plowing into the soft cushion of Ethan Rayne's stomach. For a second she envied Buffy and understood the Slayer's penchant for violence.

Faith tightened her grip as she pulled Ethan's arms back more firmly behind him. Giles' nemesis was now fully restrained and had ceased to struggle. He dangled in Faith's hold as Willow watched Cordelia land blow after blow. Finally he completely doubled up and slumped down towards the floor of the storage room lair.

"All you have to do is translate this section accurately, and we'll be done," Willow explained patiently, "Is that so hard?"

Ethan didn't respond but only groaned as he hung in Faith's grip.

"Your turn," Cordelia said all perky as she turned to Willow.

"Oh, cool!"

Willow stepped back, made a fist and was about to swing a punch at Ethan, when he suddenly gave in.

"All right! All right! I'll do it!" he gasped.

"Pooh!" Willow spat out, deeply disappointed.

Faith dropped Ethan in a chair beside the table with the manuscript. He slumped over the desk, picked up a pen and started writing on several pieces of paper beside the manuscript. Willow leaned over his shoulder and watched as Ethan translated the more difficult Latin phrases. Faith, ready to move at the slightest sign of trouble, stood a few feet away, her arms folded across her chest.

"He being a good boy?" the Slayer asked.

"Yeah . . . I think so," Willow replied as she mentally compared Ethan's translation with the Necropolis Text.

After a few minutes, Ethan finished, turned in the chair and handed the papers to Willow.

"There! All done," he said sarcastically, "Can I go out and play now?"

"Nah! You're grounded! You been bad . . . and not the kinda bad I like!" Faith snarled as she shoved Ethan's head forward.

"Ooo! And how long am I being held under protective custody, Scarey Spice?"

Faith smirked and ignored the insult.

"When Giles is back, we can talk about reinstating your 'privileges.'" Willow said as she began reading the translation.

Ethan laughed under his breath and shook his head.

"What's so funny?" Cordelia asked nervously. She didn't like the tone of voice.

"Oh, I was just contemplating what you're going to have to go through . . ." Ethan savored her discomfort, "And _where_ you're going to have to go . . . to retrieve dear old Ripper."

"You leave that to us," Faith snapped as she gave Ethan's head another shove, "We can handle it . . . right Willow?"

At first Willow didn't answer. She had been studying Ethan's translation and was now clearly upset by what she was reading.

"Uhh . . . yeah, Faith . . ." she muttered as she looked more closely at the Necropolis Text original, "Uh . . . Holy Shit!"

"Willow!" Cordelia announced with mock outrage.

Ethan turned to face Faith and utilized the moment's verbal advantage.

"I have a special request though," he said, grinning like a python.

"What?" she replied, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at him with a provocative leer.

"You look like someone who appreciates the finer things in life."

Faith rolled her eyes and nodded her head sarcastically.

"If I'm going to be under house arrest for Lord knows how long, I might be more cooperative if I had a little something to drink . . . to occupy my time."

"So you wanna get plastered!"

"Properly snobbled is how I look at it," Ethan corrected her as he wondered in disgust how Slayers could be so uniformly tacky. "It would put me in a better frame of mind. . . but only single malt Scotch, mind you. I know Ripper always kept a bottle in his office."

Faith, Cordelia and Willow stared at each other in disbelief. Suddenly Faith had an idea. She grinned and swaggered over to the door where she had left a medium size shoulder bag on the floor. She reached down, unzipped the bag. The distinctive clink of glass against a concealed wooden stake echoed in the storage room. Faith pulled out an unlabeled pint bottle half full of amber liquid. Willow and Cordelia's eyes widen in amazement as she tossed the bottle to Ethan who caught it easily.

"There ya go. Knock yerself out," she laughed.

"My!" Ethan said with a hint of grudging respect, "And here I thought Slayers were just snotty little 'birds' with pointy sticks."

Ethan unscrewed the cap, held the bottle out in a toast to Faith and pulled a slug. Suddenly he gagged and spat the half swallowed mouthful on the floor. Willow counted three distinct shades of crimson his face turned before he finally regained his breath.

"Oh My God! What in blazes is this swill? Mandrill urine?"

"Oh, you wanted to drink that?" Faith snickered, "That's the best! Old Mr. Boston!"

Faith held up one hand in front of her and rubbed the nails on her fingers with her thumb.

"Takes the nail polish right off in flash! Good stuff! Always carry a bottle. Never know when you're gonna have to do a little emergency nail repair work!"

As Ethan succumbed to another fit of gagging, Faith turned with a flourish, grabbed the manuscript off the table and swaggered towards the door.

"Come on gang, let's blow this dump. I'm gettin' bored . . . and damn hungry!"

Cordelia and Willow gave Ethan one final evil glare and then followed Faith as she paraded out the door. As it slammed behind them, Ethan could distinctly hear the sound of a sliding bar dropping in place across the outside of the door.

After a moment, he stared at the bottle in his hand.

"Now come on, Ethan old man," he announced to himself, "You can handle this, you can adapt . . . you can. This may be America, the land of seething barbarians, but it's not as bad as some bloody holes you've been. After all, it could be the Demon Dimension."

Ethan stared around him at the shabby, dirty storage room. His gaze finally returned to the pint bottle in his hand. Closing his eyes and making a face as if he were swallowing some vile medicine, he took another swig from Faith's bottle. He grimaced, shook his head and blew a lung full of air between his lips like a snorting horse.

"Uuhhgg! . . . Then again, the Old Boy's liquor cabinet 'downstairs' is damn site better!"

**. . . . . . **

Giles sat in the darkness. He could feel the stone floor beneath his legs and the sharp massive blocks stabbing into his back where he was leaning against an invisible wall. Although he could see nothing, he sensed he wasn't alone.

Sweating profusely and breathing heavily, he could tell his face was heavily bruised from the burning and swelling sensation he felt spreading from his jaw up to the peak of his forehead. Every time he moved, his muscles and joints screamed in protest. He couldn't even begin to estimate how long the beating had lasted or even who had administered it. The blows had just rained down out of the blackness and now they had stopped.

Rather than shift his head to look around him, Giles allowed his eyes to dart back and forth, desperately searching for some hint of a visible structure or shape that would give him a clue as to where he was.

"Ah, glad to see you've settled in," a familiar voice spoke out of the darkness, "I'm sure you'll be comfortable here. These are our finest accommodations."

Giles glared but still couldn't make out anything distinct.

"I see you've already taken advantage of our 'trainer' and masseuse. Good, good. They'll be at your disposal anytime. I have a few things to attend to, and then we can get together to discuss your 'enrichment program.' In the meantime, feel free to utilize any of the facilities."

The voice ceased speaking and Giles realized he was alone once more. His heavy breathing began to dissolve into sobs when suddenly out of the dark a tiny point of light streamed down from overhead. It passed around Giles' body as if searching for something. Then it faded out and disappeared. As Giles lowered his head forward in despair another voice drifted in faintly out of the darkness. Giles' eyes opened wide in response to its familiarity.

"Giles, don't give up!" it whispered, "Buffy hasn't! She'll rescue you. I can see it. She will."

"Scott?"

"You're not alone! Anytime you need to, just talk. I may not be able to answer, but I can see and I can hear."

"Scott? Where is this place?"

There was no response. Giles listened intently for a few moments more and then took a deep breath of the rank air. He closed his eyes and leaned his head backwards to rest against the damp stones.

". . . thank you . . . thank you . . ." he whispered with his eyes closed.

**. . . . . . .**

Bright midday California sunlight flooded even the deepest recesses of the Sunnydale High Library as Cordelia, Faith and Oz sat around the large research table in the center of the room. Each held a container of ice cream and a plastic spoon and was intent on stuffing as much of the rich dessert as possible in their faces. Several books that they were supposed to be researching lay open unattended in front of them.

Only Willow was apart from the others, alone up in Giles' office. She rummaged with flagging enthusiasm through the papers on his desk, trying to bring some sort of order out of the chaos. Slowly she unrolled the Luxor Necropolis Text that lay on top of the piles in front of her. She gazed at it for a long time, muttering to herself as she struggled to translate the Latin, comparing her results with Ethan Rayne's translation sheets.

After a moment she stared up at Giles' empty chair behind the desk. She sighed, abandoned her translation attempt and just leaned against the cluttered desk. Unmoving, she studied the chair for a long time. Outside the office, the others, oblivious to Willow's silent struggle, continued to gobble down their ice cream. Suddenly Buffy and Xander burst through the library doors.

"Okay, where's mine?" Xander announced, his eyes bulging at the sight of all the ice cream

"In the freezer in the bio lab," Cordelia said through a mouthful.

"Great! Thanks!"

Xander dashed out of the library to get his ice cream. As his footsteps disappeared down the hallway, Oz turned to Cordelia.

"Isn't that where they store all the frozen frog and bug parts? And the owl pellets?" Oz asked as his eyebrows rose ever so slightly.

The head cheerleader grinned smugly and didn't answer. Buffy grimaced in disgust.

"Uuhh, I think I'll pass!" she said turning to Oz, "Where were you? We were looking all over for you."

"Doing our Saturday practice in the gym. When these guys brought the ice cream in the building," Oz tapped his nose," Well, the old boy kicked into high gear. The nose knows what it likes."

"This is another of those weirdo wolf things, right?" Cordelia asked between spoonfulls of ice cream, "I mean, how do you handle it?"

Oz thought carefully, then responded, avoiding specifics so as not to overly gross out Cordelia.

"Well, you try not to ride on crowded buses, and the school cafeteria at noon can be a little rough. It does take practice."

She gave Oz a puzzled look. Oz recognized her vacuous stare and tried to put it in terms the head cheerleader could understand.

"Well, like now," he said pointing at her and Faith, "What you two have on definitely clashes."

Immediately, Cordelia and Faith gave each other a hostile glare.

"Hey, you dissing my Shalimar knock off?" Faith objected as she puffed up.

Suddenly, Xander burst back into the room, a small carton of ice cream in his hand. He shoved the ice cream into his mouth with a spoon.

"Mmm . . ." he purred between mouthfuls, "Thanks for saving me the chocolate chip guys. I love all these crunchies!"

"I don't remember buying any chocolate chip," Faith asked and then suddenly smirked.

Buffy groaned. Cordelia glanced up from her ice cream, a look of placid innocence on her face. Not understanding, Xander gaped at everyone.

"What? . . . what? . . ." he sputtered, his mouth still full.

"There is much to be said for plain vanilla," Oz said as he finished the last dollop of ice cream in his container.

"You're good . . . you're real good," Faith grinned with newly found respect for the head cheerleader.

Buffy glanced over her shoulder up to Giles' office. She could see Willow by herself, her back to the group. Buffy slipped away from the chatter in the library and slowly walked into the office. Not turning to face her, Willow spoke quietly. The tone and spacing of her words were not only ominous but had a distinct and uncomfortable familiarity. For a second, Buffy swore it was Giles doing the talking.

"Close the door," Willow said.

Buffy pulled the door shut, closing off the laughter from the library. She stood for a moment waiting for Willow to speak.

"So . . ." Buffy asked, "This our first Watcher/Slayer thing?"

"Yeah."

The Slayer waited. Both stood silently. Then, very slowly, Willow reached her hand out over the desk in front of her. With her palm facing to the side, she moved her hand extremely slowly back and forth as if gently fanning the air away from her. On the desk, a pencil rose of its own accord several inches above the piles of books and manuscripts. Hesitantly at first, then more smoothly, it began twirling in a circle. Buffy watched, her eyes wide, but said nothing so as not to disturb Willow's concentration. After a few moments, Willow gently lowered her hand and the pencil descended back to the desktop where it settled motionless among the loose papers.

"Wow . . ." Buffy offered, breaking the awkward silence, "You really got that under control now."

Willow looked up at Buffy. Willow's face was a mask of uncertainty.

"It only all came together . . . after Giles . . ." She bit her lip and couldn't finish the sentence.

"It's okay, Will. You're doing great," Buffy said, trying to be enthusiastic.

"Buffy . . . I'm afraid . . . all my Wicca spells, they're suddenly working right finally. And I can understand some of Giles' books . . . what if all this . . . 'stuff' I'm finding about me is 'cause I'm going to need it as the new Watcher?"

She stared up at Buffy and almost whispered.

". . . 'cause Giles is never coming back?"

"No!" Buffy announced firmly as much to convince herself as Willow, "You're finding yourself now 'cause we're gonna need everything you have to get Giles back!"

"I'm trying to think like Giles would. I mean it's really hard. He's so weird. But I can't stop thinking . . . _about_ him."

"Me neither . . ." Buffy knew she had to change the subject quickly, ". . . So what did you find out from Ethan?"

"Oh, that was easy!" Willow instantly relaxed, "Cordelia only had to belt him four times and he caved."

Willow held out Ethan's translation to Buffy.

"He did the whole manuscript in just a couple of minutes."

Buffy began studying the sheets of paper Willow passed to her. The Slayer scowled as she struggled to understand the convoluted translation.

"I can't believe such a wus could cause so much trouble," Willow said scratching her head at the same time.

"He's dangerous, Willow, unbelievably dangerous. Giles never talked about him much, but there's more to Ethan Rayne than we know. You guys got him locked up good?"

"Yeah. Faith tested the doors. _She_ couldn't even pull them open."

"Good. I'll have Angel check on him after sundown."

"You talked to Angel yet?" Willow asked gently.

"I'm gonna go find him tonight."

"What're you going to say?"

"I don't know," Buffy answered slowly, weighing her words, "It's all so crazy and upside down now. Nothing's right. Giles is gone. Scott's gone. You're my Watcher."

Willow pouted.

"No, no. I didn't mean it like that," Buffy tried to explain seeing the hurt expression on her friend's face, "It's just everything is different now. It all seems completely . . . unreal. When I saw Angel for the first time at the old mansion after Giles . . . I didn't feel anything. I mean, I'm happy he's back but it's more like I've finally paid off an old debt. Relieved."

Trying to understand, Willow stared at Buffy as if she were seeing something about her best friend for the first time.

"Losing both Giles and Scott . . . Willow, . . . something inside me died," the Slayer continued, "I don't feel anything. It's just this numbness. The only thing that's still the same is you guys. That hasn't changed in spite of all the smootchies problems."

"Thanks, Buffy. I needed to hear that," Willow replied sincerely.

Buffy handed back the sheets containing Ethan's translation. Searching for some kind of guidance, she studied her new "Watcher."

"So, I'm afraid to ask . . . what's the drill here?"

"It's real bad. I don't know how we're going to pull it off. To get Giles back . . . we have to open the Hellmouth . . ."

Buffy felt her stomach jump. She knew her face was flushing from the sweat beads running down her forehead.

". . . descend to the Demon Dimension and, in exchange for Giles, offer the Ruler of the Kingdom of Death something . . . 'touched by the finger of God.'"

Buffy stood silent, her mouth hanging open. After a pause, Willow spoke slowly and carefully.

"But there's something else even more important. At the start of the manuscript, the text reads, 'In all things, the end is the beginning and the beginning is the end.' Now Ethan said that it just means you have to read the text backwards. But, he's missed something big time, Buffy. It means a lot more than that."

"He said that to me, too," the Slayer replied hesitantly, "I don't understand."

"When a statement like that leads off a mystical text, it not only tells you how to use the text but it also functions like a warning . . . or a prophecy."

"But what does it mean? 'The end is the beginning and the beginning is the end?'"

"I don't know."

Buffy waited for Willow to continue. When Willow spoke again, she smiled but it wasn't her usual innocent grin but instead full of sadness at the irony of her words.

"I guess . . . I'll have to consult my books."

Buffy tried to smile back sympathetically. Suddenly, like the descent of a frost on the last flowers of autumn, the grin on Willow's face cascaded away. Unable to keep up the front any longer, she slowly broke down allowing days of pent up anguish to flow freely down her face.

Buffy quickly moved to her friend's side and wrapped her arms around Willow.

"No, sshh, Willow, it's okay," Buffy whispered, at the same time desperately searching for the strength to hold back the emotions she felt welling up uncontrollably in herself, "It's gonna be okay."

". . . Buffy . . . I don't know whether I can do it . . ." Willow stammered through her tears, "I'm so lost . . . I miss him . . . I miss Giles so much . . ."

"I know, me too. Me too."

Outside the closed office door, laughter erupted from the rest of the Scooby Gang in the library as Xander told a joke. Inside, Buffy held Willow as tightly as she could while her best friend shivered with her own sobs.

. . . . . . .

To Be Continued! Please share a review.


	3. Chapter 2 And the nights must grow quiet

**The Descent to Avernus - Part 2_  
>by Gaius Petronius<em>**

DISCLAIMER:  
>Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and every once in a while, torture them.<p>

**CONTENT NOTE**  
>The following story contains scenes of graphic violence and a little raunchy language. The sequel to <span>The Better Path<span>, The Descent to Avernus appeared originally in script format on the Slayer Fanfic Archive in late season 3, 1999. Heavily influenced by the Columbine High School massacre which occurred at the same time, the story was dedicated with love and hope to the children of Littleton, Colorado. The lyrics to "Secrets and Lies" are the property of G. Petronius, copyright 1999.

"Odi et amo! Quare id faciam fortasse requiris.  
>Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior!"<br>"I hate and yet I love. Perhaps, you ask, why I do this?  
>I don't know. But I feel it and I'm in torment."<p>

Catullus, Roman Poet, 1st century B.C.E.

**Chapter 2 - "And the nights must grow quiet."**

Ethan Rayne lay in his beat up recliner with Faith's now empty pint bottle sitting on a small table close at hand.

He hadn't passed out, but was definitely drunk. With his life experience, it would take a little bit more than Old Mr. Boston to send him into the somnolent land of alcohol induced poisoning. He stared ahead into the dark recesses of the room, marveling at how the dumpy lair provided by Mr. Trick was now converted into a prison.

Slayers were such a pain in the ass. Why couldn't they realize he was destined to rule the world, get out of his way and just die. Simple solution.

After a few moments, he grinned and nodded to a particularly dark corner of the storeroom as if something or someone only he could see were hovering in the shadows.

"Glad you could take some time out of your busy schedule!" he barked with a surly drunkenness to a wavering shape, "Where the Hell you been when I need you?"

A Voice that Giles would have instantly recognized snapped back sarcastically out of the shadows.

"Good to see you again, too. But is that anyway for a loving son to speak to . . ."

"Oh, Shut Up!" Ethan cut in.

"My! We are out of sorts today. You really shouldn't be drinking that cheap stuff you know. The high level of impurities and lack of aging . . . well, let's just say the hangover is an effect I'd love to be able to reproduce for my . . . 'clients.'"

Ethan sat up and forced the recliner into the upright position. The sudden rush of the remnants of the Old Mr. Boston roared through his bloodstream directly to his head. He winced suddenly and wrapped his palms around his pounding forehead.

"Well, are you going to open the bloody door and let me out or not?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Ethan dear boy," the Voice explained with an edge of impatience, "You know I only have one power outside of my realm, collecting the dead. I couldn't even flush the loo up here if I had to. We've gone over this dozens of times. That's why you and I are trying to _expand_ my realm."

Ethan turned his head away from the darkness and sighed with disgust.

"Bleeding lot of good you are!" he snarled, "Here I get you a Watcher . . . and what thanks do I get?"

"I do appreciate receiving Mr. Giles. He'll be a wonderful addition to our R & D department . . . but I wanted The Slayer."

"You and every other drooling cretin the Hellmouth has spat out into this stinking little village. You'll just have to get in line behind . . ."

Ethan began counting on his fingers.

"The Mayor, Mr. Trick, that bald headed imbecile Snyder, every vampire and demon for fifty miles around and half the male senior class of Sunnydale High! I included the other half in my vampire count 'cause they're all dead!"

The Voice didn't respond for a few moments. When it finally did, the tone was entirely different.

"She's the real threat, you know."

"I know that!" Ethan replied exasperated, "I'm working on it!"

"You've been slumming around up here for nearly forty years with damn little to show for it."

"I said I'm working on it!"

"Look at you, you're just a drunken yob!" the insults poured out of the shadows, "You have no followers, and all I ask is for you to take out one stupid Slayer who not only could sabotage our expansion into new markets but confine us to our realm forever!"

Ethan tried to formulate a witty come back but could only sulk in silence.

"You have to understand my position, Ethan. We're talking possibly a serious set back here, centuries of temptations, booze, gluttony, pillaging, lust, rapine . . . one of the finest and most carefully constructed marketing plans devised . . . all down the flusher!"

"You'll have your Slayer," Rayne whined defensively.

"I may have to revisit my implementation strategy. After all, the competition is pretty intense and now with Y2K a bust and 2012 looking pretty pathetic . . . I may just have to . . . set you up as a prophet . . . and then have the authorities execute you."

Ethan looked up in shock at the corner of the room from where the Voice was emanating.

"Not terribly creative I admit, but it's worked pretty well for the opposition for the last two millennia."

"I said I'm on it!" Ethan replied nervously, "You'll have her in your hands within the week! She's going to try to rescue that stupid Ripper, you know."

For the first time the Voice fell silent. Finally it spoke again.

"Does she know . . . how?"

"She and that little Wiccan will probably figure it out," Ethan said casually, momentarily relishing the discomfort he could sense coming from the shifting shadows, "She'll get the whole group of Ying-Yangs she hangs out with and go after him."

"They must be stopped. They must not reach the center of the Kingdom of Death."

"Don't get your skirts all in a bunch!" Ethan waved his hand dismissing the Voice's concerns, "You can do your regular thing, demons along the path, rock slides, boiling lava . . . as well as your usual mind games."

"That won't stop them . . . this moment has been coming for thousands of years."

"Oh will you stop with all that prophecy rot!" Ethan snapped, his head throbbing once again, "I've been listening to your moaning and complaining for God knows how long."

The Voice suddenly fell silent. Ethan, realizing what he had just said, scrambled for an apology.

"Oh, . . . sorry about that."

"That's perfectly all right," the Voice replied all light and cheery again, "Happens to the best of us."

"Just relax. I'll be tagging along with them for the ride. So even if they find the path all the way down, I'll make sure they can't pull anything off. Besides, the Slayer thinks she's going to rescue her Watcher. She hasn't a clue, you know, . . . as to what her real destiny is."

"For both our sakes . . . we'd better keep it that way."

"Oh, and one thing before you go," Ethan mentioned as an afterthought, "You know that little demon I got a hold of, that Rarak thing?"

"No . . ."

"Yes you do!" Rayne snapped all testy. His head was pounding again, "I just sent him back the other day! He's defective. Has a bloody soul. Mucked up things real bad."

"Ethan, if I had to keep track of every time a little demon, creature or politician under my purview passed wind, I'd be up to my eyes in disciplinary reports and paperwork."

"Well . . . You ought to vaporize him or something. He's given me nothing but trouble."

"Ethan . . . please keep your attention focused on the task at hand,"

"Oh, one last thing," Ethan said as he picked up the empty pint bottle and waved it at the darkness in the corner of the room, "You think you might be able to bend the rules a little and get me something from your private stock?"

"Well . . . as long as 'You Know Who' isn't looking."

A full pint bottle with an internationally recognizable brand name sailed out of the darkness as if it were tossed. Ethan caught the bottle and raised it in a toast to the shadows in the corner.

"Thanks, I appreciate that. You know, while you're here, you really should spend a little time off. Go out, get some Chinese, take in a movie, tip over a speeding car . . . loosen up . . . have some fun."

There was no reply from the corner of the room.

"No?" Rayne said as he opened the bottle, "Well, stay in touch. Oh and next time, don't embarrass me. Lose the leisure suit. It may be back in style _downstairs_ but . . . oh, _it is_ God Awful!"

There was another pause as the darkness swirled in the storage room and then suddenly vanished.

"Oh . . . sorry! My bad!" Ethan smirked sarcastically at the now vacant corner.

* * *

><p>By evening, Willow and Oz were the only ones left in the library. The study tables were littered with the remnants of the ice cream feast and open books from the afternoon research session. Cordelia and Xander, still sniping non-stop, had long left for the Bronze while Faith finally bailed a half hour ago. No one noticed when Buffy slipped out.<p>

Willow dutifully sifted through the pile of manuscripts and books on Giles' desk. Every few minutes she focused on a particular document, lining it up for comparison with the Luxor Necropolis Text.

Once she stopped, sat back in her chair and stared at the blank walls around her. She suddenly realized she sensed the Watcher's presence even though Giles was clearly gone. Of that she was positive: she had seen him at the old Dearborne Mansion vanish into the Void behind the Angel of Death.

She shuddered at the flood of nightmarish memories. What was it about Giles' office that was now sending the chills up and down her spine and making her hair stand on end? Suddenly, she realized it was the most common everyday sensation she never really paid any attention to and now allowed to overwhelm her.

It was the smell, a faint earthy not unpleasant scent of tweed, the pre-1890 acid free paper in the books and early parchment. She also caught the vaguest aromatic hint of single malt scotch. She nodded to herself and smiled faintly as she understood that this was the way a library should smell, not like the crisp ozone tinged plastic and metal aroma of Ms. Calendar's computer lab, but a rich, full scent closer to an antique sensation of hearth and home.

Oz with his lupine enhanced senses would understand she thought. He sat patiently, thumbing through one of the books the others had left on the table. Finally he sighed, stood up and walked into the office. Willow, with her face now buried in the Necropolis Text once more, barely glanced up at him.

"Will . . . let's go," he said calmly after a moment, "You're gonna burn out."

"Just a couple minutes more," she said distracted as she stared at the Text, "I've almost got what the phrase about 'touched by the finger of God' really means. You see that's Ethan's translation, and it doesn't fit the Latin but my vocabulary and declensions are so bad . . . I mean I can't keep the dative and ablative straight and I confuse the genitive plural with . . ."

Oz interrupted and gently put his hand on her shoulder.

"Willow . . . you're babbling."

She stopped talking and stared back at him.

"You're not Giles," he said.

"But I have to be like him if I'm going to be the Watcher," she pleaded. At least he should understand.

"No, you don't," Oz said, trying to reassure her as he massaged her shoulders, "You just have to be Willow Rosenberg. The Willow I know will pull all this together in her own way."

Willow didn't reply. She struggled in her mind not to accept what he had just said but understood the depth of its simplicity. Why was he always right?

"Come on, let's go down to the Bronze," he said taking her hand and pulling her to her feet, "I gotta play the second set and you _really_ need a break."

"Okay," she replied, stepping back from Giles' manuscript strewn desk. She hesitated and then spoke as if to the empty chair behind the desk.

"I'll be back. I promise."

"He knows, Will," Oz said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, "He knows."

Both turned and walked out of Giles' office.

At the Bronze, Faith, Cordelia and Xander all sat together at a round table. In the subdued lighting, the band on stage was almost finished with the first set. Between dagger laden stares, Cordelia and Xander sipped their sodas but Faith ignored hers. Every once in a while she glanced up from the table towards the door as if she were waiting for someone to arrive.

"You're awful quiet . . ." Xander finally said to the Slayer, "Not your usual bubbly self. What's up? You expecting somebody?"

"Nah . . . just people watchin'," Faith said, gazing at the door as unfamiliar faces came and went.

Xander and Cordelia studied Faith for a few moments. This was not the Faith both knew and dreaded. Something was clearly "off."

"Uh, is something going to happen here we should know about?" Cordelia finally asked, her nerves getting the better of her cheerleader superiority, "I mean, if vampires are about to burst through the door any second . . ."

"Easy, Cords. Nothing's coming down . . ." Faith said with a slight grin as she enjoyed Cordelia's discomfort, "Just feeling a little funky tonight."

"Well, it can't be the ice cream cause I gave you the one without the 'crunchies."

"Nah, it's nothing like that!" Faith's grin broadened.

At the same time, Xander's eyebrows rose.

"I just got this real blue feeling tonight . . ." Faith said looking down at the table in front of her, "Like any minute Scott's gonna come walking through that door like nothing ever happened, . . . tail between his legs lookin' for Buffy."

Cordelia and Xander were respectfully silent and let Faith continue uninterrupted.

"And I'm bored so I go over and ask the little twerp if he wants to dance. Course he's embarrassed which is sorta cute since most guys would have their paws all over ya in a second . . . But I can tell he wants to. Dance I mean, so we go out on the floor and start dancing, easy, nice and slow."

Faith's voice lowered as she put the fantasy in words while Xander and Cordelia listened with rapt attention.

"Then I start telling him stuff while we're out there. . . I don't know why. It's stuff I haven't told anybody. 'Bout my Mom and Dad. . . what I remember anyway . . . before they died . . . how my Mom cried, even through the booze, when I got called as a Slayer. And my older brother who tried to teach me some moves until he realized I could beat the crap outta him with one hand tied behind my back. And my Watcher . . . when he was alive . . ."

Faith stopped and looked away. She was silent for a moment and then continued.

"And he's cool, 'cause he just listens. Doesn't judge you or expect anything. Just keeps it to himself. You could count on him for that."

"Faith . . . it's all right to feel bad about what happened," Xander said, trying to fill the awkward silence.

"Hey, I'm okay with it. Besides you guys are bummed about Giles anyway. You don't need to hear me moaning."

"No, no, don't stop!" Xander exclaimed, grateful to Faith for filling the empty spaces in the dead conversation, "We can listen, too, ya know. Can't we Cordy?"

"Wow, is this the new and improved 'sensitive' Xander Harris?" Cordelia said smiling, her voice suddenly devoid of sarcasm.

"Depends. Are we still pretending?" he replied daring to hope.

"I don't know," Cordelia stared down at her soda, "Starting to get hard to tell."

Faith sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. She shook her head and smirked.

"You two are real jerks, ya know it? I mean, why don't you just talk to each other?"

"Oh, no! That would be too easy . . . and logical," Xander replied, putting his arm around Cordelia's shoulder. For a second she glared at him, then tossed it off. "Talking? No, Cordelia and I are comfortable now with the icy stares, snide remarks, cutting commentary delivered from behind the back . . . the occasional spiked soda . . ."

With a look of horror on her face, the head cheerleader suddenly shoved away her drink."

" Gotcha!" Xander exclaimed with glee.

Faith ignored the spat at the table. Instead she gazed at the door once more.

"Don't blow it guys," she said so quietly it was almost as if she were talking to herself, "I'd give anything just to sit around and shoot the shit with Scott again."

"I don't know whether it helps or anything and I'm really not supposed to tell but . . ." Xander slowly shared what he felt was the less sensitive part of the conversation that morning in the cemetery, "Buffy said she felt the same way."

"Really?" Faith replied with surprise, shaking her head, "I figured something was going on. I know he's really hung up on her. I mean I like the kid . . . but I got no chance there. He has it so bad for Buffy. . . ." Faith nodded and smiled, "And she likes him, huh? . . . she really likes him. That's cute. That's really cute."

Faith sighed briefly then spoke coldly, as if she were tossing a bucket of ice water across the table.

"And now he's dead . . . and Angel's back. What a pisser."

For a few moments the table was silent. The patrons of the Bronze shifted uneasily. The band's break was lasting a little too long.

"What happened to Buffy?" Cordelia asked glancing around at the restless crowd, "I thought she was coming with us."

"Nah, she's finally going to talk to Bloody Buddy," Faith tossed off the little bit of info as if it were a crumb in her lap.

Cordelia stared back and forth between Xander and Faith. She expected a response, any kind of response to the possible repairing of the gruesome twosome. When no reaction was forthcoming, she spat out the first thing that came into her head.

"Somebody tell me if I'm really flunking this one but don't when she and Angel get together . . . I mean when they . . . if they end of up doing . . . _IT_ . . . !"

"Cords, no offense, but get a vocabulary," Faith cracked.

"My Dad gets Readers Digest," Xander followed up, "You can borrow them when he's done."

"Shut up!" Cordelia quickly cut down Xander, "What's with you two? Shouldn't we be stopping this match made in the Hellmouth? I mean how many people did Angel kill last time they did _IT_?"

Cordelia glared at Faith. Xander followed her gaze and finally nodded his head in agreement.

"I guess I'm with her on this one."

"Relax, gang!" Faith waved them both off, "There's nothing we can do anyway. Buffy's on her own tonight and they gotta face each other sometime. Funny, how she got what she asked for . . . but I bet it's not what she really wanted."

Faith looked around, and her gaze fell on the entrance door to the Bronze. Just beyond the milling unfamiliar faces, the deepening darkness of the night beckoned. Cool, invigorating, stimulating all the senses to peak awareness, the night promised relief from the boredom and sense of loss the Slayer now wrestled with.

"I gotta get outta here," Faith said as she stood up and shoved her chair aside, "This place bites tonight. I'm gonna go check up on weasel man."

Faith turned to leave but hesitated. She bent down between Xander and Cordelia placing her arms around both their shoulders.

"Oh . . . and you two. You're cute together and everything but . . . ditch the 'pretend' stuff, okay. Maybe it's just cause I'm feeling a little funky tonight . . . but I think something may be coming down soon. I know I feel like I ain't got much time left. Take it from me, don't piss away what ya got playing games, okay?"

Faith mussed both their hair and strutted away, turning heads as she did. Cordelia and Xander stared after her as she pushed through the crowd blocking the Bronze door and disappeared into the night. Now alone together and not willing to look each other in the eyes, both gazed down self consciously at the table.

"So, I guess it's just us," Xander fumbled with the tiny umbrella in his drink.

"Yeah, guess so."

"What'd ya want to 'pretend' tonight?" he asked searching for a safe topic.

At first, Cordelia didn't reply. Finally after a long pause, she whispered her question.

"Xander? Why did you do that with Willow?"

He turned to her, surprise on his face.

"No pretending?" he asked not believing what he had heard, "You really want to talk? I . . . I never thought I'd ever hear myself say this but . . . I do, too. 'Cause I never thought we ever would again."

Not looking at him, Cordelia called on all her hidden strength even though the words came out in a near whisper.

". . . You have to tell me why. . . so we can finish whatever's happening."

". . . I . . . if you want to dump me . . . I understand."

"That's not what I said," Xander could hear the edge in her request, "I said we have to finish this part . . . before we know what to do next."

"Do I have to?" he asked meekly looking for an out.

"If you don't . . ." she replied quietly but her words like honed steel, "I'll beat the crap out of you . . . and it won't be pretend."

Xander realized he needed reinforcements.

"Promise me something then?" he asked turning on the puppy dog brown eyes.

"What?" she replied a little exasperated. She knew exactly what he was doing, "You haven't explained diddly and you're already asking for promises."

"No, this is different," he tried to let everything out, hoping the feelings would come unhindered from his heart, "If we break up, . . . promise you'll still yell at me. Tell me what a jerk I am and trash me in the hall all the time. That you won't just walk away and ignore me. That I won't just cease to exist."

The stern look on Cordelia's face melted.

"That's a helluva lot to ask," she answered slowly.

"I know," he said looking down, avoiding Cordelia's gaze.

"Okay, jerk face," she finally gave in, "I guess I can promise that. Now start talking."

Xander hung his head and took a deep breath. It all rested on the next few minutes. He hadn't rehearsed anything over the past few days although he had wanted to. Buffy told him he had a big heart, and he would just have to trust that.

The band had finally reassembled on the stage of the Bronze. They began the next set with a slow, acoustic song with quiet electric base backup. The female lead singer, silhouetted in the stage lights, pulled the microphone from the stand and held it close to her lips as she sang softly.

Xander struggled to explain but was too ashamed to look Cordelia directly in the eyes. As he talked he fiddled with his hands on the table in front of him. For a moment, Cordelia listened intently, looking directly at him. But as the details became more intimate, she turned away and stared blankly ahead. Her glistening brown eyes gave the only evidence of how much Xander had hurt her.

He knew his words were failing. Try as he might, he couldn't get Cordelia to look at him. It was over. Xander had trusted his heart, laid it out on the table with the wet napkins and half empty glasses of Dr. Pepper and bombed.

He glanced at Cordelia one last time and realized she was watching the band on the stage. He joined her listening.

The lead singer, her waist length brown hair swaying with the rhythm, addressed the microphone seductively.

"How has this never happened to me before?  
>And come tomorrow will you be there anymore?<br>And how can I stand it,  
>Though my heart demands it?<br>And I want to leave you,  
>But I can't tell what for."<p>

"Tell me your secrets, tell me your lies,  
>Everything about you I love and despise."<p>

Xander looked up at Cordelia and was silent, his expression begged forgiveness. She wouldn't turn back to him, but slowly hung her head. As her rich brown hair cascaded across her downturned face, she momentarily sobbed softly.

Although his words couldn't be heard over the music, Xander's lips said, "Please, Cordy!" He reached over to her hands on the table. She weakly pushed his hand away. He waited a moment, then tried again. This time Cordelia didn't move. He pulled her hand over to him and caressed it slowly. He then wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her close to him. Cordelia, her brown eyes glistening, rested her head against Xander and didn't move.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know."

"Do you . . . could you still love me?"

"I . . . don't know."

The music flowed from the Bronze stage.

"Now say where we're going,  
>And not where we've been.<br>'Cause I promise I'll love you  
>But I can't tell when.<br>If only you'd love me  
>And be more than my friend,<br>Forgiving each other's  
>The way we'll both mend."<p>

"I'll tell you my secrets, I'll tell you my lies,  
>'Cause everything about me you love and despise."<p>

Xander and Cordelia didn't move but remained silently in each others arms.

* * *

><p>Buffy waited on the lawn in the darkness before the wreckage of the old Dearborne mansion. The demolition of the decaying structure was virtually complete. Only a few beams of the first floor and the foundation were still standing. Debris lay everywhere. Several bulldozers, their metal claws outstretched like demons guarding the entrance to the gates of Hell, gaped in the darkness at her. Mounds of splintered timbers, broken stucco and stone fragments from the main fireplace were all that remained where the central hall once stood.<p>

Buffy stood silently. As she gazed at the ruin everywhere around her, her face was cast in an image not of despair but almost peaceful resignation and acceptance. Out of the darkness behind her, Angel appeared and slowly walked forward. She heard his footsteps, but, recognizing them, didn't turn to him right away. Her eyes were still riveted on the wreckage before her. For a moment, Angel, unsure of how to speak to her, said nothing.

". . . Buffy? . . ." he asked after a long pause.

Slowly she walked over and stood before him. Neither spoke. Finally, Buffy reached out her arms and slowly wrapped them around Angel's full shoulders. Angel did the same and they held each other tightly for a long time. Buffy then lifted her head off of Angel's heavy black leather jacket and, with one arm still around him, took her other hand and gently stroked the features of his face, as if trying to remind herself of an image from a distant time, now long forgotten.

Slowly her hand ran down the bridge of his nose, across the high ridge of his cheek bones and then up his forehead into his hair. Her face then moved forwards and her lips gently met his. They kissed, but it was not of passionate reunion but closer to a painful, final farewell.

Buffy and Angel separated. She then stepped back from him and faced the ruin of the old mansion in front of them both.

". . . I . . . I have no idea where . . . or even how to begin," she said to the darkness.

"Faith came to see me yesterday," he answered quietly, "She filled me in on everything that's happened."

"Everything?" Buffy replied with no accusation in her voice, "What happened to you . . . and why? Did she tell you what you did . . . to everyone? To Ms. Calendar? . . . to Giles?"

Angel could sense her building agony.

". . . Buffy . . ."

"How could she tell you?" she asked, her voice as hushed as the night breeze, "She wasn't there. She didn't feel any of it. How could she explain what happened?"

Angel didn't answer.

"And what I did to you," Buffy continued, "That you know. But what happened after that . . . to Scott, to Giles. What happened to all of us after they died, . . . that you can _never_ know."

Buffy turned away from Angel again and stared at the ruins of the mansion. Her eyes were fixed on the twisted timbers and broken stones as she spoke.

"We're all just trying to pick up the pieces now. Groping our way around in the dark."

"Buffy . . . I never meant any of this to happen. I didn't know."

"I know . . . neither did I . . . but it did."

"And although what happened between us can never happen again, . . . I still love you, Buffy."

"And I love you, too," Buffy said facing Angel directly, "But that's _why_ it happened!"

Angel stared at Buffy, his face a mask of questions.

"This isn't love, Angel. The price is too high," she continued waving her hand at the wreckage, "Love doesn't do this! It's something else. Something terrible."

There was another long pause. A night bird cooed in a nearby tree.

"I love you . . . and I hate you, too . . ." Buffy whispered, "Because we can never be together."

"Buffy, we were meant to be together," Angel protested.

"No! We're not!" she finally lashed out, "Us together is a freaking nightmare! This is not what you're supposed to be, a vampire! You're from two hundred years ago! We never should have met!"

"But I am . . . and we did."

Buffy confronted Angel staring him directly in the eyes.

"Angel? What happens . . . when lovers see love has changed . . . when the pain is so great, it tears their hearts to pieces . . . and everything around them dies? When all they touch is destroyed, is it still love? . . . or something else that drives them. Sometimes lovers, even though they want each other more than anything else in the world, . . . are no longer lovers . . . and the nights must grow quiet once again."

"Buffy, after what we've gone through, we have to try to . . ."

"No . . ." she said without anger, only regret, "I gave you back your life, your soul. That's enough. I have nothing more I can give you."

"I may have my life back . . ." Angel said staring up at the night sky, "But you still own my soul . . . and always will."

Buffy turned away from Angel. She was about to walk off back towards the streetlights and the avenue that led to the Bronze and her waiting friends. Angel's words made her halt for just a moment.

"Buffy . . . since there's nothing else I can do . . ." he said slowly, "Can I at least walk with you . . . for just tonight?"

Buffy stared back at Angel. Her green eyes glistened in the faint reflected light of the evening.

"Angel . . . wherever I go and whatever happens from here . . . there'll always be a place for you to walk . . . at my side."

Angel joined Buffy. Both left the ruins of the mansion behind and, without touching, slowly walked away together until they disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

><p>The good scotch did the trick. In the storage room lair downtown, Ethan Rayne was not only drunk but finally passed out in his beat up recliner. If it had been an hour earlier, he would have heard the scrape of the sliding wooden bar on the doorway lifting out of its locking braces. Slowly the door swung open and Faith stood in silhouette against the light from the street lamps. She walked in, slammed the door behind her and sauntered over to the recliner.<p>

She poked Ethan sharply in the ribs eliciting only a rumbling response. Suddenly, Faith spotted the second empty pint bottle lying on the floor. Quickly her stance changed from self confident arrogance to cautious defense. She sensed someone else is in the room with her and Ethan. She spun to face the darkness. From out of the inky blackness in a corner of the room, the Voice spoke to her.

"Hello, Faith . . ." it said sarcastically, "Good to see you again. It's been awhile."

"Who the hell are you? Get out here so I can see you!"

"I feel a little slighted, you don't recognize me. We've met at least three, four, maybe five times."

"Get out here!" Faith shouted, taking a step towards the expanding shadow.

"Let's see," the Voice continued as if it were counting up the number of encounters, "There was the time with your Father . . . and your Mother, . . . oh yes and your Watcher. And number four was your first _real_ boyfriend, Randall. Sensitive fellow. I sort of liked him. Pity that was so messy when you dumped him because you got bored. . . . you never realize a .22 caliber to the head can do so much . . . damage."

"Shut Up!" Faith screamed as she struggled to control her trembling.

"Oh, and number five . . . Mr. Giles. Well technically that was my assistant. At least in that case you put up a good fight."

"What the hell do you want?"

"Why you, of course!"

Faith wrestled to regain control of her short circuiting emotions but her breathing was heavy. She stood up straight as if ready to accept her fate.

"Oh no, no, no. Not tonight!" the Voice chuckled, ". . . But soon. A shame your life has so little to show for it. No status, no family, no real friends . . . no one to mourn for you. But you'll do what I ask when the time comes. And then you'll get to be with your buddies, Mr. Giles . . . and Scott.

"You fucking bastard!" Faith shouted as she decided her only strategy was to play her hand. "We're gonna get Giles back from you! And then you know what we're gonna do? We're gonna bust your stones! We're gonna wrap your ass up so tight in that stinking shit hole you call Hell, you're never gonna set foot out into the sunlight again!"

The tone of the formless Voice changed. The self confidence and sarcasm were suddenly less pronounced. Faith immediately picked up on the change.

"My, language. That'll never win you any Emmys," it cracked.

"Ah, touch a sore spot did we?" Faith grinned as she held her fists up in front of her, "You _know_ we're gonna get Giles back, don't you! And we're gonna nail your ass down good!"

"None of you will ever return . . . to the world you know," it threatened in a tone as cold as the sea.

"Maybe," Faith snapped back, ". . . But that doesn't mean we won't return to a _better_ one! . . . But you're right on one thing. I _do_ know you! We've met a bunch of times. And you are one Hell of a liar!"

Out of the darkness in the corner of the room, a slowly whirling black cloud began to surge towards Faith. It rolled in slow motion like twisting strands of molten tar. Faith dropped to a fully defensive stance and held her ground. The black form halted only a few feet in front of her.

"Come on! Do it now!" she issued an unwavering challenge, "Just try it and see how far you get!"

The blackness still didn't move.

"I've beat the shit outta vamps, demons and dozens of horny guys with six hands! Come on Mr. D! You're next!"

"I will take you . . . when it is your time," it threatened.

"And I'll be waitin' for ya!" Faith shouted back.

The black form quickly faded away leaving only shadows in the corner of the room. Faith dropped her defensive stance. She put one hand on her hip and swaggered over to Ethan who was still passed out in his recliner.

'Told him, didn't I! Trying to scare me!" she said as if she were trying to reassure herself, "Threatening me with something I don't already know. What an asshole!"

She stared down at Ethan. She debated with herself whether she should wake him up from his drunken stupor and grill him some more.

"What I wanta know is . . . what's your deal in all this, Sleeping Beauty?"

Ethan gave a drunken snort and fidgeted around in his recliner. Faith shook her head. She reached down to the floor and picks up the empty bottle of name brand scotch. She sniffed the mouth and recoiled back slightly at the powerful vapors. She stuck one finger inside the throat of the bottle, swirled it around and drew it, wet, back out. She then rubbed the liquid on the back of one of her fingernails. For a moment she contemplated the nail, then she remarked to herself, obviously impressed by the result.

"Cool. Works pretty good!"

* * *

><p>Oz's van lumbered up to the curb outside Willow's house, shuddered and stopped with a pop of exhaust.<p>

"Thanks for dropping me off," Willow said as she turned to clamber out, "I just really wasn't up for the Bronze."

"That's okay. No problem," Oz said as he reached across from the driver's seat to help her with the sticking door handle, "But get some sleep . . . or do something dumb, . . . read some comic books, watch TV or something. Just don't think about . . . you know who."

"Oz? Is it gonna be okay . . . between us?" she asked as she fumbled with the handle.

Oz stared back at her. Only the faintest hint of a smile creased his face. Suddenly, Willow leaned over, put her hands around the back of his head and kissed him with as much emotion as she could muster.

A bicyclist riding by momentarily stared in at the two wrapped in each others arms in the front seat of the van. When they finally separated, Oz's smile was broader. He took a deep breath as if he were coming up for air.

"It's definitely getting there," he said as he ran his hand through her red hair.

Willow grinned with just a trace of embarrassment.

"Go on," he said as he finally popped the door handle, "I'm gonna miss the second set. I'll call you later."

Smiling, Willow jumped out of the van and ran to the front door.

Moments later, Willow slipped into her bedroom, shut the door and flopped down on her bed. She dangled her feet over one side, sank her elbows into the comforter and put her head in her hands. After a moment, she rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Willow tightly closed her eyes as if she were trying to force some hidden image to come to her mind. The effort was unsuccessful so she sighed and sat back up.

The small box of junk jewelry and broken artifacts Giles bought for her and Buffy at the Furtwangler estate auction only a week earlier sat at the foot of her bed. As she gazed at the shoe box size container, she shook her head, unable to believe that only a few days before, she, Giles and Buffy were wandering together in the sunshine on the green lawn of the estate.

She pulled the box towards her and began absentmindedly rooting through the bracelets, pins and old corroded coins in the box. As she dug towards the bottom, she drew out an object about two inches square and wrapped in a worn scrap of dingy cloth. The cloth was tied in place by an old piece of disintegrating twine.

Willow started to untie the twine but it fell apart in her fingers. She pulled off the piece of cloth to reveal a fragment of a stone, blackened at the corners and marked with a symbol or letter that was broken off at the edge. Inside the old piece of cloth a date was barely legible.

"November 10th, 1889," she read out loud to herself.

Puzzled, Willow wrinkled her brow. She let the piece of cloth fall into the bed covers and held the stone in her hands, studying its rough damaged shape. Suddenly, Willow's eyes widened and she sucked in her breath as is she were about to plunge into water way beyond her depth. Like an arrow streaking out of the night, a vivid image pierced her thoughts and swept away the everyday calm of her bedroom.

She saw a blasted desert landscape of mountains, rocks and dust. An elderly man in dirt covered khaki sat alone in a camp chair inside a flimsy tent. He held in his hand the same stone Willow clutched in her white shaking fingers.

As he spoke to the empty tent walls around him, Willow understood who he was.

"I know it is not through me that You will work Your miracle . . . but through one . . . yet to come . . . ," he said.

Dr. Furtwangler looked up from the stone as if he were staring off at someone in the distant future but who was nevertheless familiar and right beside him. The old German archeologist smiled.

Transfixed by the image, Willow didn't move. Then, not knowing exactly why, she spoke as if she were standing right beside his chair examining the artifact with him.

"Dr. Furtwangler? . . . Sir . . . ?"

"Do not be afraid. You hold the answer in your hand. Now do what you must . . . auf wiedersehen . . ."

Dr. Furtwangler's eyes glowed, their soft blue piercing across the years. Still smiling, he lowered his head, satisfied and sighed.

The image from over one hundred years before suddenly vanished from Willow's mind. She gasped and sat back sharply against the headboard of the bed. Still clutching the stone fiercely in her hand, she looked down and opened her palm. There, the small scorched rock fragment sat, silent, enigmatic, guarding its secrets once more.

Willow closed both hands around the stone. She cradled it to her chest. Her puzzled expression melted away. In its place came a look of confident resolve. She smiled her trademark grin but it was different now. There was no trace of self consciousness. For the first time since Giles died, she felt she had the strength to fill his shoes, but not as just an imitation but rather as herself.

She leaned unmoving against the headboard. Now calm, the distress of the last week past, she took a deep cleansing breath and closed her eyes. With the stone fragment still held firmly against her breast, in a few minutes more, Willow was asleep.

* * *

><p>To Be Continued! – Please share a review!<p> 


	4. Chapter 3  A New Librarian

**The Descent to Avernus - Part 3 **

_**by  
>Gaius Petronius<strong>_

DISCLAIMER:  
>Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. No infringement is intended.<p>

**CONTENT NOTE**  
>The following story contains scenes of graphic violence and a little raunchy language. The sequel to <span>The Better Path<span>, The Descent to Avernus appeared originally in script format on the Slayer Fanfic Archive in late season 3, 1999. Heavily influenced by the Columbine High School massacre which occurred at the same time, the story was dedicated with love and hope to the children of Littleton, Colorado. The lyrics to "Secrets and Lies" are the property of G. Petronius, copyright 1999.

**Chapter 3 – A New Librarian**

Sitting alone on the steps of Sunnydale High before the start of first period was a kind of hell all its own. At least it seemed that way to Buffy the next morning. All around her, friends were meeting friends, relationships and hook ups from the previous night revealed and dissected, even notes for the day's upcoming classes were the subject of student discussion and comparison.

But Buffy sat alone, leaning her back against the side of the steps. Her eyes were closed and her head turned towards the morning sun's rays. She sighed, sat up straight and opened her eyes. With elbow on her knee and chin in her hand, she halfheartedly scanned the crowds of students, looking for a friendly face.

Her gaze drifted over to the school parking lot. In the distance she spotted Cordelia's red convertible in one of the parking places. Xander and Cordelia sat in the front seat. Xander was at the wheel and Cordelia, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, had curled herself up around him. Every now and then, Xander took his hand off the wheel and stroked her long brown hair.

Buffy grinned to herself.

"At least some things are getting back to normal around here. . . ." she thought.

Suddenly Buffy scowled. This wasn't right.

"Wait a minute!" she said out loud. "Since when would Cordelia let _Xander_ drive?"

Buffy sat bolt upright and strained her eyes on the convertible. After a moment, Xander and Cordelia climbed out of the car. Arms around each other's waists, both walked leaning against each other towards the front steps. As they drew closer, Buffy could see Xander, with what little beard he had, was unshaven and, for the first time Buffy could recall, Cordelia's hair was not all perfectly in place.

". . . oh . . . shit . . . !" the Slayer announced.

"Oh shit what?" Willow asked as she suddenly appeared directly beside Buffy.

"Oh! . . . Hi . . . !" Buffy jumped as if she had suddenly been tapped on the shoulder by either the Angelus Mortis or Principal Snyder.

In a panic, she glanced back towards Xander and Cordelia who were rapidly approaching the steps. She leaped to her feet and not so subtly struggled to hurry Willow inside so she wouldn't see Xander.

"Hey, listen! Let's go to the library!" the Slayer rattled off, "I'm sure you have all kinds of Slayer Watcher stuff to fill me in on."

"Buffy . . . It's okay . . ." Willow replied drawing Buffy to a halt.

"It is? . . . Wait a minute . . . What is?"

Willow smiled in appreciation for what her friend had tried to do.

"I already saw them in the parking lot. Cordelia's Dad called my Mom last night looking for her. I don't think Cordelia and Xander ever went home."

". . . oh . . . I'm sorry, Will."

"No, it's okay, really. A lot of things changed last night. I think Oz and I are doing real good now. Which is what I really want anyway."

Willow watched Xander and Cordelia, arm in arm and oblivious to everyone around them, as they climbed the steps to the school entrance.

"I'm just gonna miss my old Xander, though."

"Don't worry," Buffy grinned, "I think he'll still be around. Just listen for the crash of someone in the hall falling over a chair . . . or check out detention every now and then. And Will . . . I feel sorry for the guy that ever makes you cry . . . and Xander finds out."

"I hope so. Buffy . . . ?"

Buffy stared at Willow, waiting for her to finish her sentence.

". . . did you see Angel last night?"

"Yeah . . ." the Slayer replied quietly looking down at the cold stone steps.

"And . . .?"

Buffy thought for a moment, pondering how she could put the complexity of the previous night's encounter into words.

"It was so strange," she finally said, "I thought there'd be tears, a lot of hugs, heavy duty stuff. I was afraid of where we might have gone. But . . . it was like we both knew . . . there was nowhere for us to go. And we hated it . . . but there was nothing we could do."

"Are you all right?"

". . . no . . . I'm not," she said after a pause, "I just feel . . . empty again. Like after Giles and Scott died. But worse. Does any of this make sense, Will?"

Both Buffy and Willow turned and began climbing the steps to the front door. Sunlight and students swirled all around them.

"Perfect sense. Is Angel going to hang around? You still going to see each other?"

"I don't know. I'm taking it day by day . . . I mean night by night, . . . you know what I mean."

Willow grinned fondly at Buffy.

"I know. It's hard," Willow replied. Buffy noticed the brilliant California sun catch a glint in Willow's hair. "Everything's changing . . . all of us."

"Willow . . ." Buffy said thoughtfully, "Scott said something . . . He was like you, ya know. He could 'see' stuff, the future, the past, where things were headed and all."

"Yeah?"

Buffy spoke in barely a whisper, her words hardly audible above the drone of student conversations. Willow strained her ears to hear the Slayer's innermost thoughts.

"Just before he . . . died, . . . he said he was trying to see things about himself . . . but all he could see in every direction was just . . . darkness. That's how I feel now, Will."

Both entered through the front door into the hallway. Students everywhere scurried for first period class. Buffy and Willow walked together down the hall towards the library.

"You got it all wrong . . ." Willow answered firmly, "Buffy, . . . I _saw_ something last night."

"Whadda ya mean you 'saw something?'" Buffy furrowed her eyebrows as she so often did when Giles made a statement that was clearly over the Slayer's head.

Willow stopped in the hallway, and Buffy faced her.

"I mean," she said pointing to her forehead, "I _saw_ something. In my mind. Here . . ."

Willow opened her shoulder purse and brought out the stone fragment wrapped in its faded piece of fabric. She unfolded the cloth and showed the stone to Buffy.

"What is it?" the Slayer asked.

Willow didn't answer at first. Instead she took Buffy's hand and placed the stone in her palm. She then pressed Buffy's fingers around its rough edges. Buffy's eyes widened. For a moment neither spoke. Finally, Willow looked her friend deep in the eyes.

"You feel it, too?" she asked.

". . . yeah," Buffy answered, her voice betraying a spontaneous sense of wonder, ". . . warm . . . there's a power of some kind."

"I found it last night in that box of junk stuff Giles bought us at the auction. Where we got the scarabs . . ."

"But how did you know this was . . . ?"

"When I took the cloth off it," Willow interrupted, "I suddenly saw him!"

"You saw Giles?" Buffy exclaimed.

"No! . . . Dr. Furtwangler."

"Dr. who?"

"No! Dr. Furtwangler!"

"You already said that!" Buffy exclaimed, realizing the conversation was rapidly descending to a Xander level.

"I know!" Willow snapped back, now confused herself.

"Who did you see, Willow?" the Slayer asked slowly.

"You know the auction? And all the jewelry and stuff, the manuscripts and our scarabs? All the stuff came from that Dr. Furtwangler's estate, the old German archeologist Giles told us about."

"Oh, yeah!" Buffy now remembered the events of only days ago that seemed now out of another lifetime.

"Well, when I held the stone last night," Willow continued, "I saw him . . . in my mind. He was in some desert somewhere."

Willow paused, fearful of what she now had to say.

"And?" Buffy prodded impatiently.

"I talked to him, Buffy," Willow confessed as she pointed to the stone, "He said I had the answer in my hand."

"Will, . . . isn't this the same guy that's been dead for over a hundred years?" Buffy asked nervously, her Slayer radar on full alert for any supernatural threat, "He wasn't a vampire or anything?"

"At first I was scared, but then he smiled at me . . . and I felt so peaceful. He said not to be afraid . . . and that I should go ahead and do what I had to do."

Students rushed by Buffy and Willow in the hallway. The first period bell was only moments away, but Willow talked as if she were thousands of miles distant and somewhere in the dim past.

"It was like seeing my great grampa again," she said sadly, "I barely remember him. I was only five or six . . . And when the vision finally said 'goodbye,' he didn't say it the way we do, you know . . . 'good bye' or 'farewell' but rather . . . the way the Germans do . . . 'until we meet again.'"

Buffy stared at Willow. There was a calm over her best friend that Buffy had never seen before, a sense of purpose and a strength. Suddenly the first period bell rang. Buffy and Willow jumped at the jarring clatter.

"Come on! Let's get to the library!" Willow almost shouted as she snatched the stone out of Buffy's hand and ran down the hallway. Quickly, Buffy caught up with her.

"Buffy, we've got it all! I know it! Everything we need to get Giles back! We just have to put it all together!"

The library doors flew open as Buffy and Willow walked purposefully in. Suddenly they drew to a halt and a look of surprise crossed their faces. There, standing in the center of the library with his back to them stood Principal Snyder, the bald circle about the top of his head glowing even in the dim light. He gazed at the stacks with his arms folded across his chest, and gloated with the air of an emperor surveying a conquered city he was about to set to the torch.

Snyder sensed Buffy and Willow's arrival. He turned slowly to face them, a crooked grin displaying his irregular teeth.

"Good morning, ladies!"

"Uh . . . Principal Snyder," Willow stammered, "We were just coming in to study."

"I'm sure you were," he replied, his words dripping a venomous sarcasm.

There was a moment of silence as Buffy and Willow waited in dread for Snyder to play his trump card.

"I'm glad you're both here. You see, today is a great watershed in my tenure as Principal of Sunnydale High . . . not quite up there with expelling you last spring, Miss Summers . . . but almost as satisfying."

Buffy and Willow said nothing, but their mouths hung open. Snyder began to pace back and forth.

"I see Mr. Giles is not present this morning . . . again," he continued, "Pity since this pertains to him particularly. After all, he was the one who intervened on your behalf, Miss Summers, with the Board of Education. A misguided decision but, well, we all look to the future don't we. Which brings me to the pleasurable task at hand."

Willow and Buffy waited for the bomb to fall.

"Due to Mr. Giles' unexcused and unexplained absence from his position over the past week and a half, as chief administrator of Sunnydale High, I am, not reluctantly, forced to terminate his employment and seek a replacement."

Buffy gasped. She felt as if the last support were being yanked out from under her world.

"Quite correct, Miss Summers" Snyder snapped, accurately reading the distress on her face, "Your protector, guardian, spy, watcher, whatever you want to call him . . . is fired! . . . Ohh, that feels so good!"

Buffy's anger suddenly welled to the surface. She was about to fire off an insult, but Willow grabbed her shoulder and shot her a look that clearly said, "Shut up!"

"And now I'd like to introduce you to Sunnydale High's new librarian!" Snyder announced, twisting the verbal knife harder, "He's been culled from a crowded field of candidates, but I am glad to say he stood out from the pack as a man with vision . . . vision that he shares with me!"

Both Willow and Buffy both frowned. This was something they had not anticipated, an attack upon the library itself.

"Discipline, ladies! Discipline and cost containment! That's what Sunnydale High needs!"

Snyder waved his arm to encompass the defenseless stacks.

"Look at all this wasted space, filled with hundreds of volumes of questionable content! Nothing that couldn't be replaced with a single copy of Grolier's Encyclopedia on compact disk, eh Miss Rosenberg?"

Willow opened her mouth to protest but now it was Buffy's turn to hold her friend back with a quick poke to the ribs.

"Ow! Buffy!"

Ignoring the two students, Principal Snyder turned to Giles' darkened office.

"Would you please step out here! I have some _people_ I'd like you to meet! Ladies, . . . the new librarian!"

From out of Giles' pitch black office strode a tall gentleman, well dressed in tweeds and brushed leather vest. His brown hair was thinning and splashes of grey laced his thick mustache. Although wearing a stern frown, accentuated by the downturn of the mustache, somewhere in his rich brown eyes lurked a mischievous twinkle. It was Anson MacDuffie, the owner of the New Age Curiosity Shoppe where Willow and Buffy had their scarabs mounted.

Both Willow and Buffy almost gasped out loud. MacDuffie walked up and loomed just behind Snyder.

"Mr. MacDuffie, may I introduce you to Willow Rosenberg and . . . Buffy Summers, Sunnydale High's most . . . _challenging_ student."

MacDuffie nodded at Willow and Buffy. Willow was about to greet the shopkeeper with a cheery and relieved hello, but Buffy gently elbowed her again.

"OW! Buffy!"

Snyder turned to the new librarian, shaking his hand as if congratulating a particularly compliant student.

"I must say, it's a positive pleasure to be able to hire someone so _in touch_ with the needs of the school administration!"

"I'm pleased," MacDuffie replied, speaking with only the faintest hint of a Scottish accent, "I shall forward my blueprint for _modernizing_ the school library to you shortly. Discipline, sir! Discipline, economy and efficiency!"

Secure in his new hire, Snyder spun about and lectured Buffy and Willow.

"You will see now that things are going to change around here!" he proclaimed, waggling his finger.

As Snyder ranted, MacDuffie's eyes twinkled. Unbeknownst to Snyder, MacDuffie silently raised his middle and index fingers up behind the little Principal's bald head as if Snyder had just sprouted a set of horns. Buffy and Willow struggled desperately not to giggle.

"These strange goings on at all hours of the day and night! The repairs! The smoke and fumes, the constant fire alarms! The broken furniture! It's all going to stop! And stop now!"

Standing behind Snyder, MacDuffie opened his mouth and stuck his finger in as if he were gagging. It was a move worthy in the best Xander tradition. Trying to restrain a laugh, Willow snorted. Sensing he was somehow losing control of the situation but unable to tell how or why, Snyder snapped at her.

"Is there something wrong, Miss Rosenberg! Something amuse you?"

"Oh, no sir!" Willow replied, struggling the frown.

Snyder glared back. Suddenly he spun to confront Buffy as if she were the instigator of every failure of his administration.

"And you, Miss Summers! I'll have my eye on you now! You will have my undivided attention, and you won't have that Mr. Giles to run interference anymore!"

MacDuffie now towered directly over Snyder. The Librarian designee opened his palm, gently blew in it and then waved the palm over the top of Snyder's bald head as if he were polishing the surface of a mirror. Snyder continued to lecture Buffy but he couldn't understand why neither Buffy nor Willow were taking his threats seriously. Instead, both could barely restrain their snickers.

"The days of this Library being a haven to weirdos, bizarre rituals and hidden depravities are over! Not to mention the making out going on behind the bookshelves during school hours!"

Buffy and Willow, their eyebrows raised, glanced at each other.

"You think I don't see what's been going on in here! Well, there are going to be changes! By the time I'm finished, you won't recognize these rooms!"

Snyder turned to storm out.

"Mr. MacDuffie," he shouted over his shoulder, "I'll expect your report by the end of the week!"

"You shall have it, sir!" he answered as he straightened up to his full six foot two inch height, "Discipline! Efficiency! Economy!"

Snyder halted at the library door. Just before leaving, he studied the room along with its stacks and shelves of accumulated arcane knowledge.

"Cubicles!" he smiled, thinking out loud, "Yes I can see it now! Florescent lights and cubicles. Lots of cubicles!"

He turned with a flourish and was gone. As the library door finally slapped shut, Buffy and Willow let out a collective sigh of relief. They then shifted their attention to MacDuffie. The pseudo-serious look was gone from his face. Although his brown eyes still twinkled, his expression exuded a deep and profound sadness. Both Buffy and Willow felt it and realized it was for Giles.

"Hello, Mr. MacDuffie," Willow finally said.

"Miss Willow . . . Miss Buffy . . . ," he nodded in reply.

Buffy almost opened her mouth to speak but she wasn't sure what to say.

"You're not really Giles' replacement are you?" she finally asked the question she could put into words.

"I shall keep the seat warm for its rightful occupant," he smiled back, "But we have much to do if we are to retrieve Giles and turn back his captor's plans. Our time is short and we must begin immediately."

"Wait a minute," the Slayer suddenly back tracked, "You're talking about a _Him_ and _His_ stuff. Who is this _Him_?"

"You know well, lass," the substitute Librarian answered ominously, "You battle His designs every day. It is the Ruler Himself that we all fight . . . and His dominion is the Kingdom of Death."

For a second, Willow imagined the silence that descended on the library was like a giant shroud suddenly wrapped all around, enveloping them and cutting off their breath. She unconsciously filled her lungs with air while at the same time Buffy's mouth hung open motionless.

The last three words conjured up a weird sense of déjà vu for Buffy. She suddenly felt her heart skip a beat as she remembered the lines from Scott Hope's poem he shared with her his last morning at Sunnydale High.

"You've shown me in my heart, newly sprung from its prison,  
>That the Walls 'round the Kingdom of Death were my making.<br>And the Descent to Avernus in my mind's eye only."

She wondered why of all the things she was supposed to memorize in school and failed, this still came rushing back clearly.

"I don't think I'm going to like this," the Slayer finally said breaking the stillness. MacDuffie turned away and walked slowly toward the darkened stacks of books. He stared off as if he were gazing down endless passageways and vistas of time and space. His words echoed off the library walls like messages from another dimension.

"He seeks to expand His realm beyond its appointed bounds . . . ," he said quietly but clearly, "Through demons, vampires and other unnatural beings He has turned loose into the world. And He is opening its gates as we speak, utilizing our dreams, our nightmares, our subconscious fears and terrors. For over three hundred years, He has been on the move, virtually unchallenged . . . until now."

"But what does this all have to do with Giles?" Buffy asked, now sensing even more danger in the unwelcome explanation.

"The taking of Rupert Giles was only a skirmish . . . and a miscalculation on His part. He got greedy. . . . He was really after you, Buffy. You are the one that has the power to seal the walls to His Kingdom and contain His dominion within its proper sphere."

There it was, the cinderblock to the gut. Buffy turned sharply away from MacDuffie and stalked off.

"Buffy!" he ordered. Willow sensed the tone of Command in his voice.

Buffy halted but did not turn to face MacDuffie.

"You know in your heart that Vampires are not the creation of this world. They are of the Darkness and their physical being has no place here. Their sole residence is the human mind along with the other demons and monsters of the subconscious. For the past three centuries, He has turned more and more of them loose into the world. It is your destiny to put them back where they belong."

Buffy spun about to face the new Librarian. She glared at him, her face a mixture of fear and anger at the weight of the task he was placing upon her.

"How the hell do you know what I am?" she said, "Who are you to tell me what _my destiny_ is? What are you, anyway?"

MacDuffie didn't reply but instead hung his head as if he dreaded the path he was now fated to lay out before the Slayer. It wasn't fair. He knew that. She had already borne so much.

There was a moment of silence. Buffy glared defiantly at him. As Willow struggled to understand the confrontation, another image came into her mind. Unlike the revelation of the previous night this was just a sudden sense of recognition.

"Oh my God . . ." she said quietly, "Uh, Buffy . . . I think . . ."

She stared at the eccentric shopkeeper.

"You're a Guardian . . . aren't you?"

Buffy's eyes widened with Willow's revelation.

". . . a Guardian? . . . a Guardian of the Watchers?" Buffy almost whispered.

MacDuffie only nodded.

"A Guardian only appears . . . when stuff is _real_ bad," Willow continued, "The last time was when the Ancient One, Yogsothoth, almost killed Giles and nearly broke loose into the world." (1)

Again MacDuffie nodded.

"It's that bad now, huh?" Buffy asked, lowering her emotional defenses. She really didn't want an answer. She dreaded it since she knew it involved her. All the events of the past two weeks, the death of Giles and the loss of Scott Hope, even the return of Angel, all pointed down this path towards an ending obscured in darkness.

MacDuffie spoke with a clinical detachment that Willow recognized was necessary if one were to somehow remain sane.

"The Ruler of the Kingdom of Death is about to sweep out into the world, breaking down the barriers that have contained him since Creation. It will be a final struggle, an Armageddon if you will. To turn the tide, Seven must take up the challenge. They must descend to Avernus, the Gateway to Hell and the Demon Dimension, and carry the battle deep into his own Dominions. You must bring together all the rest of your friends so that we may prepare."

"Aw, crap! When the hell is anything going to get back to normal around here!" Buffy moaned. It was so much easier with Giles. She could con her Watcher out of just about anything, short of the end of the world. There seemed to be so many more of those of late.

"Who's gonna break the news to Cordelia and Xander?" Willow gulped looking at the Slayer to volunteer. Buffy acted like she didn't hear.

"Ya know, just once I'd like to have a Thursday night where I can just go down to the Bronze, sit on my ass and . . .!"

"Mr. MacDuffie, there's a prophecy in the Necropolis Text . . . ," Willow interrupted, her voice trembling despite her best effort to marshal her new found Watcher's confidence.

""The end is the beginning . . . and the beginning is the end," the shopkeeper recited, nodding at the same time.

"It's about this Ruler and the Kingdom of Death, isn't it? . . . do you know what it means?"

"The end of this world is the beginning of the next. And the beginning of the next world is the end of this one."

Buffy and Willow didn't speak as the impact of the prophecy sank in. Buffy felt a surge in the pit of her stomach similar to when she drove the sword home as Angel regained his soul. Suddenly Willow sat down in a chair, her face turning a ghastly pale.

Anson MacDuffie bowed his head once more and continued barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry, lassies, but whatever the outcome of our struggle, this world, as _we_ know it . . . will cease to exist."

Willow and Buffy stared in horror at MacDuffie. He stood motionless, with his head bent. He seemed in that moment like an ancient weary warrior, gazing out over new fields of conflict as he prepared one more time to launch forth into the quest for a peace that will never come.

For a few minutes the library was quiet. Suddenly the second period bell rang, its piercing tone shattering the silence.

* * *

><p>Cordelia was not paying the slightest attention to senior English class. She huffed when she considered the irony of the Dickens novel she was supposed to have read but hadn't. <span>Great Expectations<span>. She was bored and boredom to Cordelia Chase was as bad if not worse than any of the Hellmouth spawned entities Buffy continuously battled.

Uncharacteristically, she slouched forward in her chair, her elbow on the desk and her chin resting in the palm of her hand. She stared forward but the look on her face was not dreamy. Rather she was puzzled as she tried to understand what had and was happening between her and Xander.

Her life was changing as she sat there and no one knew. Or did they? Her loyal minions waiting on her fashion pronouncements were no where to be found this morning. Was she that obvious?

"Well, Duh!" she thought, realizing she and Xander had paraded into school arm in arm. She looked down and sighed. The hallway bell rang ending second period. All the other students leaped to their feet and collectively rushed to the door, but Cordelia let them pass by. Then she slowly collected her books and left the now empty classroom.

At the same time in another classroom down the hall, students bolted for the exit at the clatter of the second period bell. As they dashed past the emptying desks and scattered in the hallway, Xander remained behind, slouched back in his chair. He didn't move but only stared down at the closed incomprehensible algebra II book on his desk. He scratched the back of his head.

After a moment, Cordelia appeared at the door to the empty classroom and poked her head in.

"Xander?"

"Cordy!" His heart jumped as he looked up.

Xander sprang up from the desk and ran over to the door as Cordelia entered the room. When they met, they stopped only inches from each other.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hey," he answered.

Xander wrapped his arms around Cordelia, and she returned the embrace as if it were them against the world. Xander led her over to the teacher's desk up front in the classroom where they both sat together on the desktop. For a few moments, both said nothing, only gazing into each others' eyes. Xander stroked Cordelia's hair in his fingertips, running them up and down as he marveled at the rich brown color of the strands in his hand. He then gently touched her cheekbones.

"Are you okay?" he asked her gently.

". . . yeah . . ."

"You're not sad, are you?"

". . . no . . ." she said after a moment very quietly, shaking her head.

". . . are you happy? . . ."

". . . yeah . . ." she answered with the faintest smile.

Xander nestled his face in her hair and whispered in her ear.

". . . me, too . . ."

Cordelia slowly pulled away from Xander just a little. She began staring at all the features of his face, his black hair, his dark eyebrows. She ran her fingertips across the thin stubble on his chin.

"Cordy? Is something wrong?"

"Sssh . . ."

Cordelia looked down at one of Xander's hands. She gently took it in hers and examined its every detail. Her long delicate fingers interwove with Xander's shorter ones. As if she were feeling them for the first time, Cordelia inspected every line and curve, the shape of the knuckles and the curve of the wrist. Suddenly she stopped at one finger, gasped and looked up at Xander.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked, now panicking.

"Your poor finger! It's all twisted and broken!"

"Huh?"

She didn't answer but instead held his hand out in front of her for him to see. Xander stared at his own hand with its crooked ring finger cradled in Cordelia's palm.

"Oh, that! That's nothing. You remember Jesse? He slammed my hand in a car door by accident when we were in seventh grade. It was all wrapped up for a couple of weeks. Never healed right."

"Does it hurt?' she asked, still concerned.

"Cordy, it was five years ago!"

He grinned and raised his hand in front of Cordelia's face. He playfully wiggled all his fingers at her as if he were waving. Relieved, Cordelia smiled back. She then looked down, drew in a deep breath, and asked _the_ question she wanted to ask all morning.

"Xander? . . . last night was it . . . I mean was I . . . ?"

He stared at her in disbelief.

"You're kidding! You gotta be kidding!"

"Xander? What?" she floundered, not understanding.

Xander got up from the desk, stood in front of her and took her hand in his.

"Cordy, after last night, I want to run down the hall yelling at the top of my lungs! I could hug Snyder right now! Hell, I'd even congratulate Dead Boy on his return to Sunnydale! I want to grab you and dance around the room!"

Xander let go of her hand and held up his arms as if he were about to waltz off amidst the desks. However, before he could complete one turn, the third period bell rang. As it did, Xander banged into a nearby chair, toppling over it and a student desk, bringing all of it down onto the floor with a crash.

"Xander!" Cordelia exclaimed jumping off the desk and rushing to his side.

"Ow! Ow! That was dumb!" he moaned clutching his bruised shins as he sat up.

Cordelia knelt down beside him.

"You don't have to try to impress me," she smiled as she poked him in the side, "You're still a clutz, you know."

"Cordy? . . ."he asked after a moment's hesitation. "Was I okay? . . . I mean, last night. . . . do you love me?"

Cordelia didn't answer, but instead she leaned forward and kissed Xander as she cast all her pent up emotions into his hands. Both held each other closely as they leaned against the knocked over desk and chair. After a moment, Xander moved as if he is about to get to his feet.

"We better move it," he said, "You're gonna miss class."

Cordelia grabbed his arm before he could stand. She drew him back close to her.

". . . no . . . stay here with me," she whispered tenderly, a touch of sadness in her voice, "Don't go just yet . . . they say it's never like this . . . ever again . . ."

She nestled her head on Xander's shoulder. Both sat motionless on the floor in each other's arms, holding one another as tightly as they could. As they stared off into the empty classroom, Xander and Cordelia treasured the feelings awoken in the other, even as they both realized as well that nothing would ever be the same again.

To Be Continued!

* * *

><p>(1) Buffy and Giles' battle with Yogsothoth is more fully recounted in an earlier still unpublished Cthulhu mythos tale "The Guardian of the Gates of Dawn." For more on the Guardians and Anson MacDuffie see "The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind."<p> 


	5. Chapter 4 Marshaling the Troops

**The Descent to Avernus _by Gaius Petronius_**

**DISCLAIMER:**  
>Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and every once in a while, torture them. No infringement is intended.<p>

**CONTENT ****NOTE**  
>The following story contains scenes of graphic violence and a little raunchy language. The sequel to <span>The <span>Better Path, The Descent to Avernus appeared originally in script format on the Slayer Fanfic Archive in late season 3, 1999. Heavily influenced by the Columbine High School massacre which occurred at the same time, the story was dedicated with love and hope to the children of Littleton, Colorado. The lyrics to "Secrets and Lies" are the property of G. Petronius, copyright 1999.

**Chapter 4 – Marshaling the Troops**

By the end of fifth period, the word was out and the phone pool ready for activation. Every Scooby was on board that tonight was _the_ night. They were going to get Giles back. At least so said Willow and the peculiar new librarian with the funny accent. Of course Giles had an accent and wasn't exactly "normal" by Sunnydale High standards either, but Buffy and the others usually knew what to expect from Giles. Anson MacDuffie was a whole new quantity.

It's not that he was any weirder than Giles. Both seemed to have their noses perpetually buried in a musty old book. It was just the "new" librarian had a little devilish streak that accompanied the mischievous twinkle in his eye. He had supplied Principal Snyder with the much anticipated report on compact disk to "streamline" the library operations. Buried in the code was a virus that would first direct Snyder's computer to a series of internet hardcore porn sites, then subsequently relay the contents via e-mail attachments to all the members of the Board of Education.

When Willow pointed out that it would be easy to trace the offending software back to the library CD, MacDuffie only shrugged his shoulders and grinned, noting that by then the world as they knew it would have ceased to exist. He then announced his next target was Mayor Wilkins, but Willow convinced him to concentrate instead on the rescue effort for Giles.

At 2:30 that afternoon, the halls of Sunnydale High were awash in students, most heading out the exits either for home or the athletic fields. By 5:00 pm, the school was nearly deserted. Buffy and Willow were alone in the library. Anson MacDuffie had disappeared hours earlier, presumably back to the New Age Curiosity Shoppe to assemble the necessary mystical items for the evening's expedition.

Willow, still pouring over the Necropolis text, sat in Giles' office at his desk. Every now and then she shook her head at a particularly difficult Latin phrase, then scanned Ethan Rayne's translation. Buffy hovered at one of the library reference tables outside the office. Before her lay a large brown volume with gilt edged pages. The heavy cover was inlaid with gold images and the title emblazoned across the front, "Dante - The Inferno." It was the same book that so upset her the day she, Willow and Giles returned from the auction at the Furtwangler estate.

Buffy opened the volume and began slowly paging through. Interspersed with the English translation of the Cantos of Dante's poem were a set of nineteenth century engravings depicting the visions of Hell. Across the pages, souls of the damned writhed in torment at the hands of demons of every shape and sort.

In Giles' office, Willow, having finally hit a total translation roadblock, stamped her feet under the desk in frustration. She leaned back in the chair and stared out the open door at her best friend. Buffy, engrossed in the book, gave no hint she was aware that Willow was watching her. Willow rose up from the desk and walked out into the library over to Buffy. For a moment, the Slayer's attention remained fixed on the antique volume. She then looked up at Willow.

"Buffy, you know Giles said that's not what it's really like," Willow said pointing at one of the pages.

"I'm not so sure, . . . there's something about this thing . . ."

Willow sat down beside Buffy and studied the book with her. Willow turned the pages back to the beginning. She slowly read out loud.

"In the midway of this our mortal life,  
>I found me in a gloomy wood, astray,<br>Gone from the direct path . . . "

"That's how Dante begins it, huh?" Buffy asked, at the same time pointing at an engraving, "Who's this Virgil guy that goes with him?"

"He was an ancient Roman poet, Dante's guide in Hell. Giles tried to get me to read him for Latin practice . . . boring!"

"So how come this Virgil knows so much about Hell?"

"Try reading his Latin and you'll know why he belongs there," Willow said, crinkling her nose.

"_You_ ever read this thing, Will?" Buffy asked hesitantly as she ran her finger over the open page.

". . . yeah . . ."

"When?"

"Remember when you first freaked out after the auction? Well I started looking at it then. And after the Angel of Death got Giles, I figured I'd better read it all."

Buffy shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She quickly glanced over her shoulder at the looming book stacks as if they were the ancient gnarled trees in the first engraving's depiction of the "gloomy wood."

"I thought you said this stuff wasn't real," she said nervously.

". . . _Giles_ said it wasn't real . . ." Willow replied after a pause.

"Oh . . ." the Slayer said, the discomfort obvious in her tone of voice. Fearfully she pointed at the engravings of Hell. "Willow? Is this where we're going to have to go . . . when we rescue Giles?"

"I don't know," Willow confessed, "Giles always used to say that Hell was really just what was in our minds. That it comes from inside each of us."

Buffy shook her head.

"Man . . . weird. Will? Promise you won't ever get weird on me, okay?"

"I'll try."

"I mean having one weird Watcher is bad enough . . ." Buffy complained, "And then Faith on top of it! But two of 'em!"

Willow huffed.

"I presume you mean Mr. MacDuffie and not me! He's technically a Guardian you know."

"Whatever he is, he's still weirder than Giles," the Slayer continued moaning. "Why are they always so weird?"

"Hey, watch who you're calling weird, Miss 'I Dig Cemeteries' 1999!" Willow popped back with friendly sarcasm.

Suddenly the door to the library flew open. Willow jumped in her seat and Buffy leaped to her feet and assumed a full defensive stance against a vampire onslaught. For a moment, nothing appeared in the doorway. Then, Xander waltzed in, his hands in his pockets.

"Hello? . . ." he called out as he glanced around the library, "This the Happy Hades Tour Center? Where's the ticket line?"

"Geez, Xander! Nice entrance!" Buffy exclaimed as she lowered her fists, "Scare the shit out of us why don't ya!"

"Hey, you said be here on time. And here I am with at least an hour to spare."

Willow glared at Xander.

"What, they lock the bathrooms up early?" she snapped, her voice uncharacteristically icy. "Where's your other half?"

Xander swaggered over to the library checkout desk.

"If, by that you mean Cordelia, she went home. She'll be here in plenty of time."

"And you been home yet?" Willow took another stab, "I heard your Mom having a fit over the phone last night."

"Uh . . . well . . ." Xander stammered, "I plan to . . . just as soon as we do the rescue Giles from Hell thing. Then I've got my nice warm sleeping bag in the back yard waiting for me."

Willow shook her head. For all her previous reassurances to Buffy, it was obvious that Willow was still upset with Xander. She stood up, paraded into Giles' office and shut the door with a force that was not quite a slam but firm enough to indicate a Willow level of displeasure.

Utterly clueless, Xander turned to Buffy.

"What's with her?"

The Slayer wasted no energy being diplomatic. They had little enough time before MacDuffie would return to announce the end of the world as they knew it. Buffy figured the Scoobies had better put all their squabbles out in the open and behind them before they set out on any expedition to rescue Giles.

"I'm taking odds here on who gets killed first . . ." she snapped utilizing her sharpest Sunnydale sarcasm, "Cordelia by her Dad, you by your Mom or you by Willow. Hey! You got two votes to Cordelia's one! Cool! Looks like you're a winner!"

"Come on Buff!" Xander fought back, "Why's everybody so bent over me and Cordelia? It's not like we haven't been going out or anything!"

The Slayer wasn't the slightest bit sympathetic.

"Well for starters, you didn't have to throw it in everyone's face! You could have at least _tried_ to hide that you slept with her last night!"

"Why the hell should I try to hide it?" Xander responded, honestly indignant.

"Well, Duh! You _are_ both only seventeen! That does sorta get the parents a little wigged out!"

"But we don't care! What the Hell's wrong with being in love with someone?"

"You want more? How about Cordelia's, like, a total jerk!"

"Hey!" Xander bristled at the escalating insults, "This is my girl you're dumping on!"

Buffy wouldn't back off.

"And like you really trashed Willow . . . Again!"

"Oh yeah!" Xander lashed out, realizing at the same time his mouth was getting ahead of his brain, "Well Cordy may be . . . well, Cordy! But at least she's isn't some walking dead guy!"

Buffy's eyes blazed with anger. Xander knew he had hit the mark but refused to call it quits at that.

"And when you make love to her . . . she doesn't go out and try to butcher all your friends!"

That was the line in the sand and he had just crossed it. Buffy drew back her fist about to take a swing at Xander.

"Go on! Hit me!" he shouted recognizing the intensity in her face from their many run ins with vampires in the cemetery, "You want to! I've been busting your ass ever since you took up with Angel . . . and I've been right, too!"

Suddenly, something made Buffy hold back the knock out punch. She saw Willow at the window in Giles' office door. There was a look of pleading on her face and her eyes were red. She slowly shook her head, and her lips silently mouthed the word "no."

Buffy lowered her fist and sat down, dejected, at the reference table. She stared silently at the Dante volume in front of her.

Xander suddenly realized how much he hurt Buffy. He was astonished that he could wield that kind of power over a Slayer. It wasn't right. Buffy was the strong one. She was their leader and of course an LA hottie. He had to patch this up quick or the whole rescue Giles expedition could go down in flames before it even got off the ground. He didn't notice Willow looking out from behind the closed door in Giles' office.

"Oh, shit, Buff . . . I'm sorry . . . Geez, I didn't mean . . ."

He sat down with her and pleaded like he did with Cordelia at the Bronze the previous night. He was doing a lot of that with women lately.

"Well, I did mean it but . . . ," he floundered with the apology, "I warned you about my mouth when I get pissed off and all . . . and you were trashing . . . I can't believe I'm saying this . . . _Cordelia!"_

"No . . . no, no. I had that coming," Buffy replied quietly, "I, of all people should have known, . . . you don't diss somebody's major time squeeze."

She smiled sadly at Xander.

"Especially their first."

He understood and silently swore to keep his mouth shut about Angel.

"But Xander you have to realize. . . everything's changing around here so fast. Without Giles, it's getting like we're all turning into strangers. We gotta talk to each other!"

"Funny . . . that's what Faith told me and Cordy at the Bronze last night. She said something big was coming down and that what we had was too precious to waste playing games. . . . that's why we made up."

Buffy grinned at Xander. Suddenly it was like they were back in the cemetery that morning.

"Stick yer chin out, tough guy," Buffy said with a lousy street accent.

Xander jutted his chin forward towards her, mugging at the same time. Buffy made a fist and ever so lightly with a gentle swing, tapped it against Xander's outstretched jaw.

"There," she announced, "You just watch your step from now on, okay?"

Xander nodded, sporting a Grouch Marx grin.

"All right, your turn," he said to Buffy

Buffy held her head up straight, her chin protruding. Her silhouette stood out in the dim light of the library, and reminded Xander of a picture of an Egyptian queen's bust he had seen in one of Giles' books.

He almost couldn't take the swing despite the boxing match being all in fun. Finally with the same gentle motion, Xander lightly touched Buffy's chin with his fist.

"That's for trashing my heart. . ." he said quietly, returning her smile as well, "Don't ever do that again."

" . . . Ow . . . ," the Slayer said with gentle sarcasm as she massaged her jaw on the spot where Xander had tapped it.

"Faker," he replied.

For the first time, Xander turned toward Giles' office and saw Willow staring out at them. Her face now wore a smile of relief. Buffy followed Xander's gaze to the door.

"Hey . . . ," she whispered to him, "You tell your best bud that secret you weren't supposed to tell me?"

Xander shook his head as he stared back at Willow.

"I think it's time. You better get your butt in there."

Xander nodded, rose to his feet and headed for Giles' office. He shut the door behind him. Through the window in the door, Buffy watched as Xander stood next to Willow and tried to explain the "secret" he told Buffy in the cemetery that morning.

Only snippets of the conversation, which lasted several minutes, could be heard through the closed door. For a moment, Buffy imagined she was with Scott Hope on their infamous first date at the Buster Keaton silent film fest. No dialogue, no sound but every emotion, every nuance of feeling clear on the faces of the players through the door window glass.

Buffy sighed, the emptiness she had managed to hold off the past few days now coming back in an unwelcome rush.

At times the exchange between Xander and Willow became heated, then moments later Willow, fighting back tears, turned away from Xander. Quickly she used the break to regain her composure and faced him again, all "Willow tough."

Buffy watched but her thoughts wandered back to a coffee shop and a drawing on a paper place mat. She saw Scott's pencil fly across the paper, effortlessly capturing her features. She remembered the sketch was safely tucked away in her bedside table. She wished she could leave the aching of the memory neatly folded up with it, only bringing it out to hold close to her heart when she felt strong enough.

Finally, the two "best buds" stood staring at each other, neither speaking nor moving. After what seemed like hours to Buffy, Willow at last walked the few steps up to Xander, put her arms around him and embraced him. Xander hesitated for a moment and then returned the hug. The two held each other for only a brief moment. As if bidding him farewell, Willow gave Xander a gentle kiss on the cheek. Then each released the other, and Xander walked over to open the office door.

"Okay, show's over!" he announced like a carnival barker, "Next performance of Journey to the Center of the Hellmouth, nine o'clock sharp! For best seating, get your tickets in advance!"

"Shut up!" Willow laughed as she followed him out of the office.

"Okay, I'm going to go wait out front for Cordy," Xander pointed towards the hallway.

"I don't know if she's gonna make it or not, Xander," Willow said, "Her Dad may ground her . . . maybe even until she's real old and wrinkly."

"He wouldn't! . . . would he? Hey . . . you don't know my babe. I taught her some of my best tricks for sneaking out."

At the same time across town on the Chase family compound, Cordelia slipped out the front door of the mansion. In the fading daylight, she ran stealthily from bush to bush across the lawn to the five car garage and servants' quarters. As she reached the first garage bay, her white toy poodle, barking loudly, shot up the driveway towards the garage.

"Sshh! Mercedes! Sshh!" she hissed.

Cordelia struggled with the garage door opener while the poodle yapped at her heels. Suddenly the voice of Cordelia's father boomed out over the grounds.

"Cordelia Constance Chase! You get back in this house this instant or so help me I'll ship you off to the nuns until you're thirty!"

Inside the garage, the poodle continued to yap at Cordelia.

"Now look what you've done!" she shouted at the furry little barking machine. The noise reached an unendurable crescendo.

"Shut Up You Little Dust Mop!"

From out of the garage came the distinctive sound of a foot kicking something soft, followed by a yelp. Suddenly the poodle, yipping and tail between its legs, dashed out of the garage bay and ran back towards the mansion. The roar of an eight cylinder vintage muscle car shattered the calm and order of the Chase estate. Cordelia's red convertible, top down, sprang out of the garage and down the driveway with her at the wheel.

"CORDELIA!" The voice of her Father rang out from the house once more.

As the convertible hit the pavement, Cordelia burned rubber, peeled out and disappeared in the direction of Sunnydale High.

"Yeah, she'll make it," Xander grinned, "Might be a little late, though. I told her to stop off and get some supplies."

"Supplies?" Buffy's eyebrows rose.

"Well, we are going to Hell, aren't we?"

"I never thought of it _that_ way," Willow said to Buffy.

"I mean, there aren't gonna be any donut shops along the way," Xander stated what he thought was the obvious.

"Guess not!" Buffy scratched her head as she and Willow pondered the functioning mechanism of the Harris brain.

"See! I'm useful! Always thinking ahead! . . . I'll be out front," Xander said, his self confidence fully restored as he sauntered out of the library. After making sure he was gone, Buffy turned to Willow.

"Willow? . . . Everything okay between you and Xander?"

". . . yeah . . ." she smiled.

"You two best buds again?"

Willow thought for a moment.

"Not really what we were," she sighed after a long pause, "But . . . good enough, as good as it's ever gonna be . . . things change."

Waiting for her to continue, Buffy stared at Willow.

"What?" Willow asked, puzzled by the Slayer's sudden silence.

"Are you going to just let me hang here or are you going to tell me what he said!"

"Buffy . . . that was our last secret together, Xander and me . . . Cordelia gets them all from now on. So I want to keep this one . . . just for me . . . is that okay?"

Buffy nodded. She finally accepted that the whole dynamic of the Scooby Gang was changing.

"Yeah . . . It's okay."

* * *

><p>The Sunnydale City Hall wasn't exactly the focus of hot times on the old town tonight. Mayor Wilkins sat behind his desk and held a hand of playing cards. Mr. Trick lay slouched across a cushioned but bloodstained visitor's chair. His legs dangled over the armrests while he fidgeted with his hand of cards. Trick liked poker, usually strip with dead kings wild. Unfortunately, Mayor Wilkins called the shots and his taste in games ran the gamut from the mundane to the completely outré.<p>

"So, you haven't heard from Ethan Rayne since Mr. Giles got scooped up?" Wilkins bantered off as he intensely studied his hand and plotted out his game strategy, "Strange, he should have had the Necropolis Text by now."

"I don't think he planned to just hand it over, you know," Trick quickly pointed out, then regretted the speed of his response.

"Of course not!" the Mayor popped back with a giggle and an evil grin aimed directly at his head vampire, "He was going to try to use it against us. Wouldn't you do the same? Oh, do you have any fives?"

"Damn!" Trick snarled as he pulled two cards out of his hand and passed them across the desk to the Mayor. Smugly, Wilkins slipped them into his hand.

"If he's gonna double cross ya," Trick grumbled, "Why don't you just take him out? He is just a little weasel."

"Ah, but he does have some excellent connections. I presume the Slayer has the text by now . . .Your turn."

"Uh . . . How about nines, you got any nines?"

"Sorry . . . go fish!" the Mayor grinned with relish.

Trick couldn't take the boredom any more. In a temper, he threw his cards down on the desk.

"Come on, Man! I hate this stupid game. This trash is for live folks! Besides, you always win!"

"Of course. I cheat."

The phone on the Mayor's desk rang. The Mayor grinned at Trick who sighed.

"Sshh! Watch this!"

The Mayor picked up the receiver with a flourish.

"'allo! Sunnydale Pizza. Wadda ya wan? Small, medium, large? Coke! No Pepsi! Coke!"

The Mayor put his hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver and snickered like a mischievous child making a dirty prank call. Trick's eyes rolled up to the ceiling. Suddenly the look on the Mayor's face changed from silly glee to excitement.

"Oh! Hello! It's you! I didn't recognize _The __Voice_! . . . You like that, huh? I'm getting pretty good at it. I can do Italian, British, French, even a little German 'mein her!' Southern accent is pretty tough though. Haven't got that one down yet.

The Mayor gestured with his hand for Trick to get a pad of paper and a pen to write down the details of the conversation.

"So, what can I do for you? Haven't seen you around much . . . although I bump into your executive assistant there all the time. Lend him a hand whenever I can, of course."

The Mayor listened attentively.

"Uh huh . . . right . . . oh! . . . Funny, we were looking for that as well. I know Ethan did have it, but I guess Mr. Giles and the Slayers sort of pulled the wool over his eyes. . . . now, now don't get upset. He'd be a lot more helpful if you could at least get him into an AA meeting once in awhile. Besides, we're pretty sure the Slayer has the text."

The Mayor grinned with extreme satisfaction to the caller's response.

"Oh course I'd be happy to help! Anything for you. Sure, we'll kill the Slayer and get you the text. And what do you want us to do with Ethan? . . . Oh!"

There was a pause as the Mayor listened to Ethan Rayne's fate. Mr. Trick fidgeted in his chair.

"I see . . ." Wilkins broke in, interrupting the caller's rant, "Can I make a suggestion? Crucifixion is a little out of style right now. Maybe a drive by shooting? Or I know this guy, Kevorkian, he's real creative. I'm sure the two of you could come up with something for Ethan. . . . Sure thing. We'll get on it right away. . . . Good to talk to you, too!"

The Mayor hung up and grinned at Trick.

"Well, what was that all about?" the vampire asked nervously.

Wilkins rubbed his hands together with relish.

"Seems our 'buddy,' The Ruler of the Kingdom of Death, has decided, with the millenium and all, that it's time he made his move. He plans to 'expand' his Realm. However he's got two little problems. One, he needs the Necropolis Text to open the Demon Dimension and the second was something about the Slayer being able to screw the whole deal up. Anyway, we're going to do him a favor."

"Kill the Slayer and get the text? All Right, Man!" Trick exclaimed, leaping to his feet, "Finally, something to do around this dump. What about Rayne?"

"You might as well round him up, too. He'll be another bargaining chip. The Old Boy said something about needing a Prophet and a crucifixion."

Mayor Wilkins shook his head.

"He never was very imaginative. You'd think he could come up with something better than that. I mean, it's already been done."

"Hey, what the Hell do you care if the Old Boy screws up?" Trick announced as he selected a particularly lethal looking hooked knife from a box in the corner of the office.

"I like the way you think! Besides, he's forgetting, if he wants to 'expand' his Realm, he has to come to me first . . . after all, I control the Planning and Zoning Commission!"

The Mayor grinned again at Trick who felt relieved to escape the office without being reduced on a whim to a pile of dust.

* * *

><p>Early evening at the Sunnydale Mall was not the best time of day for shopping. The afternoon shift of employees was headed home for supper and the evening retail workers were just coming onto the floor, signing in to their registers and getting up to speed. Besides, Cordelia was not sure exactly what she was looking for. Xander's request for "supplies" could mean anything. She wandered through the brilliantly lit esplanades as she artfully dodged the few other shoppers.<p>

"Supplies . . . supplies . . . What did Xander want anyway?" she muttered, taxing unused portions of the Chase brain. She stopped at the Mall directory and scanned the list of stores.

"Come on, think, Cordelia! You can do this. Now if we're going to Hell to rescue Giles, what are we going to need?"

Suddenly something clicked. The neurons in a little used neural pathway lit up, responding to a flood of thought processes.

"It's gonna be . . . hot! That's it!"

Cordelia quickly studied the list again for a specific store. Spotting her target, she ran down the Mall towards an Eddie Bauer outlet. She stopped abruptly at the store entrance, perused the window displays and pulled a credit card out of her pocketbook. She held the card out in front of her and her rich brown eyes glowed with shopper's delight

"Lot's a credit,  
>Should be fun,<br>Look out Daddy,  
>Here I come!"<p>

Cordelia strode confidently into the Eddie Bauer outlet.

* * *

><p>The hallway outside the library was dark with only scattered reduced night lighting and the occasional red illuminated exit sign cutting into the shadows. Alone, Willow leaned against a wall of lockers. Her arms were folded across her chest and her face creased with worry.<p>

All the paths were converging. She could sense that much. What they were leading to, she couldn't determine. She wished Scott Hope was there. He could "see" the direction of events much like she did, but his sensitivity stretched far beyond her capabilities.

Buffy had shared with her the incident in the coffee shop where Scott had actually dared to look into the Demon Dimension and locate Angel. The risk had been terrible and his soul was nearly trapped. Only Buffy had saved him, holding on to him as tightly as she could. It had been a close call.

Could Scott and Buffy somehow rescue Giles the same way, or at least pinpoint his location? Willow sighed. It was all speculation and wishful fantasizing. Scott was gone and the Scoobies would have to rely on the guidance of Anson MacDuffie.

That made Willow nervous. Not only was the Guardian an unknown quantity and highly erratic, she also sensed from his actions and tone of voice that he wouldn't be with them long. The paths were converging and some she could tell were ending.

From out of the darkness down the hallway, the sound of the front door opening and closing and the crisp snap of footsteps echoed in the empty hall. At first Willow tensed up but quickly relaxed. The footsteps were not stealthy or rapid indicating hostile intent. Rather they were firm and steady. Willow looked up as Oz rounded the corner.

"Hey, Will. I guess I'm a little early. . . . Man is that weird."

". . . yeah . . ." she replied, hesitating as she tried to read his mood.

"So, . . . this is the Real Big, huh? Going to Hell and all to rescue Giles. Guess I'm not gonna make it back in time for the second set at the Bronze."

Willow looked at Oz sadly and shook her head. On an impulse, she wrapped her arms around Oz and kissed him. They stood together, holding each other in the darkness for a long time. Finally, Willow pulled herself gently back from Oz's lips.

". . . wow . . ." he said quietly, "It's _That_ _Big_!"

"End of the world stuff."

"Oh . . . well, in that case . . ."

Oz leaned forward and pressed his lips to Willow's. Once more, they stood locked in each others embrace for a long time. Without a sound, they slipped down the hallway to a darkened classroom and shut the door.

* * *

><p>Buffy sat by herself at the library table with the Dante volume open in front of her. She read a few lines and studied the dozens of engravings. One in particular held her attention and drew her in against her will. She couldn't take her eyes away from the engraving of the naked man nailed to the stone floor of the vision of Hell. By his broken body, Virgil and Dante stood contemplating his fate. Buffy quietly read the caption under the engraving but without the fear that had plagued her when she first saw it a week and a half earlier.<p>

"That pierced spirit, whom intent  
>Thou view'st, was he who gave the Pharisees<br>Counsel, that it were fitting for one man  
>To suffer for the people."<p>

She gazed sadly at the picture of the soul in torment, unaware that Angel had entered the library. He moved across the open floor almost silently, not disturbing Buffy's concentration and stood behind her. Finally, Buffy sensed his presence. She turned away from the book to look up at him.

"Hey," he said after a moment.

"Hi . . ." she replied nervously, "I didn't think you were coming."

"Your friend, Anson MacDuffie found me," he said, pointing at the book, "What are you looking at?

"Nothing."

Angel bent down over her shoulder. He stared at the engraving for a long time.

"I wouldn't call that 'nothing,'" he replied. Buffy could sense a tremor run through his tall frame as he straightened back up. She had to ask.

"Angel . . . is this what it's like? The Demon Dimension?"

"I don't know . . . I don't . . . remember."

Buffy turned in her chair to face him.

"Angel? . . . Did I ever say I was sorry? For everything?"

"Dozens of times," he grinned slightly.

"If what Mr. MacDuffie says is true, all of this . . . you, me . . . Willow and Oz, Xander and Cordelia . . . it's all going to end. When we get Giles back, everything will change."

"It already has," he said quietly as he paced off towards the book stacks, "Buffy, what we had, what we want from each other . . . it can't happen. I know that now. It doesn't change what I feel for you, but I know it's never going to happen."

"Angel, we have to go into the Kingdom of Death . . . Whoever this guy is that rules it . . . Head Demon, the Devil, Death . . . Mr. 'D' as Faith likes to call him," Buffy grinned in spite of herself, ". . . He's going to try to break out, overwhelm the whole world if we don't stop Him. But if we do, all of this, everything we had . . . may cease to exist . . . as if it never was."

"Maybe that's the way it should be," he replied as he stared off. Buffy imagined he was contemplating the endless shadowy paths that branched away in every direction. "If everything is going to be changed, you and I should be, too . . ."

He turned to face her.

" . . . and then we'll be free."

Buffy stared at Angel, the pain clearly visible on her face.

"Angel, . . . I'm afraid of 'free.' I've never been free."

"I've almost forgotten what 'free' was like . . . before I was harvested. All I know is I wasted it."

Buffy gazed off in the direction Angel had been looking. She struggled to comprehend the vistas and pathways she knew he must be able to visualize. She failed, only aware of the stacks of Giles' books.

"This world, our world . . . with you and me . . . there's nothing but death in it. Trying to get you back and losing Giles and Scott at the same time, it's like the Kingdom of Death is already here. We just don't realize it yet."

"I know," he confessed, "I feel like we're all plunging towards some horrible ending. We may not know what it is, but we know it's coming. And there's not a damn thing we can do about it."

"I just wish everything would somehow get back to normal," she said, her voice laced with irony.

"Be careful what you wish for. In a _normal_ world, you and I . . . and a lot of others . . . may not be part of it."

Suddenly the door to the library burst open. With masterful timing, Xander and Cordelia paraded in, Cordelia lugging a large shopping bag behind her. She sported a new khaki safari jacket, a small day backpack and an oversize pith helmet which perched precariously atop her brown hair. Buffy stared mouth open while Angel just shook his head and snickered.

"I hope we're interrupting something," Xander cracked as he helped Cordelia lift the shopping bag up onto the library research table.

"Okay, George of the Jungle," Buffy shot back, ". . . what is all this . . . shit?"

"Since nobody around here is taking this little excursion very seriously, I figure we'd better be prepared."

As Xander explained, Cordelia emptied her shopping bag all over the research table. Out tumbled a confused assortment of camping supplies, canteens, compass, first aid kit, high energy candy bars, bug repellent and sunscreen.

"Oh . . . my . . . God . . ." Buffy said slowly in disbelief.

"Well, the canteens might come in handy," Angel remarked as he picked through the pile. He pulled out one of the plastic lotion bottles.

". . . but Cordelia . . . sunscreen? In Hell?"

"It's got moisturizers," she said without batting an eye, "So with the heat and all there's going to be a lot of flaky skin by the time we get back. Don't worry, Buffy. You and I can share it. I know Willow's not into that kind of thing and the guys, well, we're lucky if we can get them to bathe once a week, right?"

Buffy, her mouth hanging open once again, just stared at Cordelia.

"I'll go fill these up," Xander said as he grabbed the canteens. He ran to the library door, the canteens swung over his shoulder. As he did, he passed Willow and Oz, arm in arm, coming in. Oz spotted the two canteens.

"Put something good in 'em, okay?" he said to the departing Xander.

"Yeah, how 'bout Dr. Pepper!" Willow added.

"Eeeww," Buffy crinkled her face and looked to Angel for support.

The vampire just shrugged. Xander began taking a poll.

"I got one vote for Dr. Pepper," he said acknowledging Willow's raised hand. He then pointed at Cordelia who nodded.

"I got two."

Oz nodded his head along with Willow and Cordelia.

"That's three," Xander continued his count, "I make four 'cause whatever my babe wants, I want."

He then turned to Buffy.

"I gather you're a 'no.' What about you, Angel?"

Angel really didn't care, but he cast a sideways glance at Buffy who glared at him.

"Uh, . . . I guess I gotta vote no."

" . . . whipped . . ." Oz muttered.

"Okay," Xander said like he was announcing the results of the Sunnydale student council elections, "That's two 'no's' from the strange people and four 'yes' votes from the rest of us. It looks like the normal people win."

With the canteens clanking at his side, Xander ran out the library door.

"What were you saying about wishing for a 'normal' world a few minutes ago?" Buffy remarked under her breath to Angel.

Meanwhile, Willow spotted the pile of 'supplies' on the research table.

"Ohh! Is that candy in there?" she said, letting go of Oz. Cordelia immediately stepped in to take command of the provisions.

"Wait just a minute! Those are special high protein, all natural, energy restoring, super nutrient bars!"

"Cool! You wanna split one?" Willow asked.

Cordelia thought for just a second.

"Okay!" she answered all perky.

Cordelia grabbed the largest bar, stripped off the wrapper and broke it in two, handing one piece to Willow. Like squirrels discovering a bonanza of winter seeds, both stuffed the candy into their mouths.

"You two are going to be bouncing off the walls," Angel said.

Buffy quickly glanced around the library.

"Speaking of bouncing off the walls, anybody seen Faith?" she asked.

Angel hesitated before he answered.

"She's coming. MacDuffie had her go get . . . something."

* * *

><p>The storage room of the abandoned store downtown was as dark and quiet as a vault in the Sunnydale cemetery. Ethan Rayne's beat up recliner sat vacant. Two half empty liquor bottles, one on the table by the recliner, the other on the floor, lay on their sides. Ethan Rayne was nowhere to be seen.<p>

Suddenly a crashing sound erupted at the doorway to the alley as if someone were trying to force their way in. In a moment, the door burst open and a dozen vampires led by Mr. Trick poured into the storage room. He immediately spotted the empty recliner and the half finished bottles.

"Search the place!" Trick yelled at the pack of lackeys. The vampires spread out around the room turning over crates and smashing open locked doors to other rooms in the store. Several vampires ran out into the alley to continue the search outside. Trick pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and punched a speed dial button. The phone only rang once.

"Boss. He's not here but there are two half empty booze bottles."

Trick listened for a second.

"I know Rayne would never have left that stuff half finished! The damn Slayers must have beat us to him. . . . Okay, we'll meet you there!"

Trick flipped off the cell phone and jammed it into his pocket. He yelled again at the other vampires.

"Okay, you lead ass muthers! Get the garlic outta yer jocks! It's the Sunnydale High Library! Now!"

Trick charged out the door with the remaining vampires surging in a chaotic crowd behind him. Like ill mannered house guests, they left the door open allowing the light from a lone street lamp to spill in across the storage room illuminating Ethan Rayne's empty recliner.

* * *

><p>TO BE CONTINUED!<p>

If you enjoyed, please leave a review. I apologize for the delay between updates, but there continue to be a number of real life issues that take up much time.

Happy Samhain!

Pax,

Petronius


	6. Chapter 5 The Journey Begins

**The Descent to Avernus _by Gaius Petronius_**

DISCLAIMER:  
>Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and every once in a while, torture them. No infringement is intended.<p>

**CONTENT**** NOTE**  
>The following story contains scenes of graphic violence and a little raunchy language. The sequel to <span>The<span> Better Path, The Descent to Avernus appeared originally in script format on the Slayer Fanfic Archive in late season 3, 1999. Heavily influenced by the Columbine High School massacre which occurred at the same time, the story was dedicated with love and hope to the children of Littleton, Colorado. The lyrics to "Secrets and Lies" are the property of G. Petronius, copyright 1999.

A fuller explanation of Johannes Martel's "De Rerum Naturum" may be found in my Buffy novel, "Carpe Diem."

**Chapter 5 – The Journey Begins**

Back in the library, Angel glanced around nervously. Anson MacDuffie still hadn't returned. Angel had noticed peculiar activity after dusk in the cemetery, unnatural shadows and shifting shapes. In order to conceal his unease from the others, he joined Buffy, Willow and Oz staring at the pile of "supplies" on the research table. Buffy shook her head.

"You know, we might need some of this stuff," the vampire remarked to Buffy, "Cordelia, turn around and let me see what I can get into your pack."

Angel unzipped the daypack Cordelia wore and began stuffing in items from the table. Willow, who had finished her candy bar, licked her fingers.

"Mmm, that was good," she said with her mouth full, "How about another one later?"

"Yeah," Cordelia agreed, daintily licking her fingertips.

Suddenly the door to the Library swung open. Anson MacDuffie stood against the backdrop of the darkened hallway. He was dressed as he was that morning but with one addition. Hanging in a heavy leather belt at his side was an enormous sword, a Scottish claymore, its handle emblazoned with gold, gems and semi-precious stones.

Willow spotted the ominous form of the sword.

". . . oh . . ." she said as she gulped down the mouthful of candy.

"We have little time," MacDuffie announced as he glanced anxiously over shoulder at the darkness outside the haven of the library, "Miss Faith's not here yet?"

"Any minute now," Angel responded quickly. The Guardian turned to Oz.

"Could you go retrieve Mr. Harris. He's floundering around the beverage machine."

"Right!" Oz rolled his eyes and ran out the library door. As he disappeared, Faith pushed past him, shoving Ethan Rayne in front of her.

"Geez, will you quit yer moaning!" she snapped as Rayne surveyed the room.

"Oh, hello all! Party time?" he grinned sarcastically, "Who brought the Guinness?"

"Shut up!" Faith jabbed him in the ribs just hard enough to indicate the next time would be debilitating.

"Keep him back," MacDuffie told Faith, "The rest of you gather around the table. Miss Willow, you have the Necropolis Text and the stone you mentioned?"

"The text is in the office."

"I'll get it!" Buffy announced as she ran into the office. Quickly she retrieved the manuscript off Giles' desk, returned to the group and handed it to the Guardian. MacDuffie set the unrolled scroll on the table before the assembled Scoobies.

"And now . . . the stone, Miss Willow," he asked, his hand outstretched.

Willow slipped out of her pocket the old worn piece of cloth that encompassed the artifact. She passed it to MacDuffie who untied the frayed twine holding it together. He withdrew the stone from its protective cloth and examined it, paying special attention to the fragmentary ancient Hebrew letter on its cracked edge. Ethan leaned forward, struggling to get a glimpse of the object MacDuffie held reverently.

For a moment he said nothing. Buffy swore she could see his eyes turn misty. The Guardian suddenly looked far older than he had led them to believe. He then bowed his head briefly before the unknown artifact.

"This may truly be it," he marveled.

"What do you think it is, Mr. MacDuffie?" Buffy asked

"Dr. Furtwangler was probably right. It's a fragment of the first destroyed tablets of the Decalogue brought down from the mountain to the wandering tribes of Israel."

Willow reached out and gently stroked the small stone in MacDuffie's open palm.

"Then, it would have been . . . 'touched by the finger of God' . . ." she said, her voice trembling with awe.

"Yes. In the Creation," the Guardian explained, "All realms and the forces that rule them were assigned their appointed place hence establishing the great balance of the universe. The Ruler of the Kingdom of Death has only one power beyond His realm, the power to receive the dead. He attempts to overturn the balance by expanding his realm."

MacDuffie held the stone up for all to see. Ethan Rayne jumped in surprise.

"This," the Guardian said, "Cast before Him by you, Buffy, will release Giles and overturn the advances He has made for the past three centuries."

". . . and that's why all of this . . ." Buffy said fearfully, "Our world will change . . ."

"Aye, lass. What new world will come once His evil influence is turned back, once the original balance is restored . . . none may tell . . ."

MacDuffie held up the stone once more.

"I pray this is the key."

"You don't sound so sure of that," the Slayer said.

"The text is corrupt at that point, even in the original hieroglyphic version of the High Priests and Priestesses of Osiris and Isis. It speaks only that the balance my be maintained by that 'touched by the finger of the Great Creation.' And even that could have many interpretations."

"But I don't understand?"

"Lass, what we seek could be anything. You and Willow have been studying Martel's 'De Rerum Naturum.' Doesn't he tell you that nothing since the beginning has been either created or destroyed, but only changed?"

Buffy stared at MacDuffie, not following what he was saying.

"And all things around us . . . trees, flowers, the winds, . . . you and I . . . even the dust beneath our feet . . . was it not at one time all one in the beginning all . . . born out of the Great Creative Force . . . touched by the 'finger of God' if you will?"

Down the hallway, Xander struggled to pour an open can of Dr. Pepper into one of the canteens. Oz had two others already filled up at the drinking fountain.

"Geez, come on man! Water's good enough," Oz said, barely able to conceal his exasperation.

"Hang on! Almost got it here!"

The Dr. Pepper foamed up in the canteen, spewing all over Xander's hands and out onto the floor.

"Screw it, Xander! Nobody's gonna want it anyway. You ever taste warm, flat Dr. Pepper?"

A loud crash of smashing glass echoed down the hallway, followed by the sound of boots on linoleum heading towards them. Xander and Oz looked up from their canteens. Four vampires ran by the hallway junction in the distance. Obviously lost, they halted in front of the wall directory at the administration office as they searched for the way to the Library.

"Shit! Game's over!" Oz exclaimed under his breath

He grabbed Xander by the arm as both turned and ran for the Library. Instantly the vampires spotted their movement in the darkened hallway and gave chase.

"They're right behind us!" Xander shouted as he and Oz burst through the library door.

Buffy and Angel spun around and took a defensive stance to protect the others. MacDuffie grabbed Willow's hand and wrapped her fingers around the stone.

"Protect it! At all costs!"

"What do we do!" Willow exclaimed, confusion threatening to overthrow her recent resolve.

"Your journey begins now, Lass!"

"What? But . . ."

MacDuffie turned to face the library door. He pushed past Buffy and Angel. With a wide sweeping motion he drew the sword from out of its scabbard. Firmly he pointed the glittering blade at the doorway.

"Claude! Iubeo te! (Be sealed, I command you!)" his voice boomed at the library door.

Chaotic pounding erupted from the hallway as a crowd of vampires, trying to break down the barrier, amassed on the other side of the door.

"All of you get back!" MacDuffie shouted at the Scoobies, "I can hold the door for only a few moments more! You must leave now! I will keep them at bay so they cannot follow."

"How the Hell do we get outta here?" Cordelia almost screamed.

MacDuffie turned to face an empty wall. He quickly scooped the Necropolis Text off the table and pointed his sword at the vacant spot in the room.

"Hrakra g'nartok valla tasrah! Hrakra!" he shouted, the alien incantation ringing above the noise outside in the hallway.

"What the hell's he saying?" Xander exclaimed, glancing around wildly in a panic.

"I don't know! Sounds like Klingon!" Oz answered as he strapped the two water canteens over his shoulder.

The vacant wall at the tip of MacDuffie's sword began to glow and shimmer like a pool of oil slicked water disturbed by a strong wind. All at once, a void opened up in the center of the distortion and a darkness poured forth as if beckoning the group to enter.

"Go! Now! I cannot follow!" MacDuffie shouted to Buffy and Angel.

"No, Mr. MacDuffie!" Willow cried out, "You've got to come with us!"

"I am a Guardian! I must seal this way so that none may follow! GO! NOW!"

The beating on the door became more violent. Splinters and cracks spread up and down the wood frame. The small glass windows in the door shattered sending shards flying across the library floor.

"But how do we find the way? What do we do?" Buffy asked as she and Angel backed up towards the opening.

"A guide will meet you there! GO!"

"Come on, Buffy!" Angel shouted as he pulled Buffy by the shoulder.

Both stepped into the void and vanished. Faith pushed Ethan into the void and then turned to Cordelia.

"Keep an eye on that bastard! I'm staying!" she shouted over the mounting din.

Cordelia and Xander followed Ethan into the void. As they dissolved into the darkness, Cordelia's pith helmet toppled off the back of her head and fell to the floor. The door frame buckled as MacDuffie's restraining spell began to collapse.

"Miss Faith! Follow Buffy!" he said urgently, "Your destiny does not lie here! Clear the way for her so that she can see what she must do."

"You gonna be okay?"

"I enjoy a good brawl, Lass, don't you!"

"Yeah, cool! Take care of yourself," Faith replied

Without hesitation, she stepped into the void and vanished. Only Willow wouldn't budge from her spot at MacDuffie's side. Oz pulled at her arm to get her to follow the others.

"Come on Will, we gotta move it!"

"No! Mr. MacDuffie! NO!"

"Go, Lassie, now!" MacDuffie shouted.

"But you're gonna be killed!"

"No, Miss Willow," the Guardian replied gently, "When you succeed, as I know you will, and all this is changed, stop by the shop and I'll have a pot of fresh chamomile tea waiting for us to share. . . . Farewell."

"No! Not farewell, then. Auf wiedersehen!"

"Aye, they're good words for parting. 'Until we meet again!'"

The Guardian turned to Oz.

"Stand by her side always! Defend her, Lad! GO!"

Oz dragged Willow towards the void. She still would not enter. Suddenly the Library door gave way like a bursting levee allowing a crowd of vampires, followed by Trick and the Mayor, to pour into the room. The Mayor drew himself up to his full height and grinned at MacDuffie.

"Well, hi there! I don't think we've been introduced. Although I notice the fancy steel you're packing."

"Come No Further!" MacDuffie said, his voice laced with Command, "I am Anson, Twenty-third Laird of the Clan Mac du Fie! Guardian of the Watchers and of the Gates of Dawn! This way is sealed!"

For a moment, the vampires cowered. Then Trick snickered. Reassured, the lackey vampires all broke into gales of laughter.

"Impressive titles," Mayor Wilkins quipped, "Any salary increase come with those."

"Come on, Will, NOW!" Oz yanked on Willow's arm hard.

Suddenly, three vampires moved forward, launching a probing assault against MacDuffie. With an almost invisible sweep, MacDuffie's sword flew with lightning speed in his hands, decapitating the attackers. The vampire bodies dropped to the floor, the heads rolling across the linoleum until they burst into dust.

"Anyone else?" the Guardian grinned back at the Mayor and then ordered Willow," Go Lassie! I must close the Gate!"

Willow felt her resistance fail. Her legs became weak as she realized the Guardian had turned the Tone of Command on her. She tried to think of a counter spell, but Oz quickly dragged her into the darkness of the void. As she disappeared she screamed.

"Mr. MacDuffie! NO!"

At the same time, the Guardian cast the Necropolis Text to the floor and touched the tip of his sword to the dry parchment. It immediately burst into flames. The gateway into the void where Buffy and the others had fled shimmered again momentarily and then vanished. In a few more seconds, the Necropolis Text was fully consumed.

"Aw shit!" Wilkins exclaimed, dripping cynical disappointment, "Now you've gone and screwed everything up good. I was actually looking forward to even getting you on my team. Would have been a great opportunity for you. Oh well."

MacDuffie smiled back at the Mayor and firmly planted the point of his sword in the floor in front of him.

"Don't forget to check your e-mail!" the Guardian said.

Puzzled for a moment, Mayor Wilkins finally shrugged his shoulders and gave a wave of his hand. All the vampires surged forward towards MacDuffie. The Claymore sang like a scythe reaping bundles of wheat in the autumn wind.

TO BE CONTINUED!

If you enjoyed, please leave a review!

Pax,

Petronius


	7. Chapter 6 Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter

**The Descent to Avernus **

**_by Gaius Petronius_**

DISCLAIMER:  
>Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and every once in a while, torture them. No infringement is intended.<p>

**CONTENT ****NOTE**  
>The following story contains scenes of graphic violence and a little raunchy language. The sequel to <span>The <span>Better Path, The Descent to Avernus appeared originally in script format on the Slayer Fanfic Archive in late season 3, 1999. Heavily influenced by the Columbine High School massacre which occurred at the same time, the story was dedicated with love and hope to the children of Littleton, Colorado. The lyrics to "Secrets and Lies" are the property of G. Petronius, copyright 1999.

**Chapter 6 – "Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here."**

Buffy stopped as the darkness gave away to a shadowy grey before her. She knew the boundaries between waking, dream and nightmare were often blurred. She also understood that recognizing the difference could mean survival or death for all the Scoobies just setting out on the journey.

Angel halted beside her. They had left the portal into the void behind and both now hesitated before a blasted landscape that stretched out as far as they could see.

A dark stunted forest loomed in every direction. Leafless trees, their branches contorted in fantastic angles, overhung the path. The limbs clicked against themselves and swayed almost imperceptibly as if laying in wait to snatch any one of the party who lagged behind.

A humid fetid breeze blew through the tangle of limbs and clouds of dank mist swept by, both obscuring and then revealing the path leading forward. Up ahead, Buffy could see a clearing where a deep cavern opened like the jaws of an ancient evil. The mouth of the fissure was surmounted by a towering archway of gargantuan stones and on the top lintel was inset an inscription. Near the entrance and close on the path the ground dropped off in a sheer descent of over one hundred feet. At the base of the rock face, a lake, inky black and bubbling with the tell tale signs of volcanism just below its surface, sent up billowing clouds of steam to join the mists that swirled through the forest and across the path.

Willow, Faith, Xander, Cordelia, Oz and Ethan wove their way out of the blackness of the void and into the forest. They halted together as a group behind Buffy and Angel. All stared at the exposed stretch of jagged rocks and gravel where the path led to the cavern's gaping black mouth. No one dared move out of the shelter of the forest into the open but gazed silently before them. Finally Oz broke the stillness.

"What is this place?" he spoke the question out loud that all wanted to ask.

". . . the Gates of Avernus . . ." Angel answered after a moment, his voice tight with suppressed emotion.

". . . where we have to go . . ." Buffy said under her breath.

Willow shifted uneasily.

"_In __the __midway __of __this __our__ mortal __life_," she recited quietly from memory,  
>"<em>I <em>_found __me __in __a __gloomy __wood, __astray,  
>Gone<em>_ from __the __direct __path__.__.__._"

She turned to Buffy.

" . . . so, it _is_ real . . ."

"I knew it was," the Slayer answered with foreboding, "I knew it all the time."

"Uhh . . . guys . . ."Cordelia stammered, wanting to protest the direction events were taking but not knowing what to say. She glanced over at Xander who just shook his head and sighed.

"I'm with you," Ethan said to Cordelia in a confidential tone.

"Shut Up!" she snapped, furious that her only support would come from the likes of Ethan Rayne, "If I want to hear you say something, I'll kick you between the legs!"

Ethan rolled his eyes and struggled to keep his caustic remarks to himself. The entire group hesitated on the edge of the clearing for a few minutes more. A cloud of mist with a yellowish tinge swept by them. They all crinkled their noses at the acrid stench.

"Whew! Oh man!" Oz almost gagged.

Willow rubbed her watering eyes.

"Eeewww!"

Even Angel shook his head at the rotten egg smell. Cordelia looked accusingly at Xander.

"Hey! Why the hell's it always gotta be me!" he complained defensively as he pointed at Ethan, "He's the bad guy. He probably did it!"

"And I cover my scones with garlic prune marmalade and sip red cabbage tea when I plan to have company over!" Ethan grinned back, taunting Xander and Cordelia.

"Shut Up!" Buffy shouted.

Ethan smirked, relishing putting everyone even more on edge.

". . . sulfur . . ." Angel muttered after a pause.

"Smells familiar, huh," Faith said sympathetically.

The vampire didn't respond. At the same time, Buffy scanned the surrounding landscape. This was what they had come for. There was no use holding back now. Whatever was awaiting them would show itself soon enough. Forcefully she moved out of the shelter of the forest onto the gravel path leading to the cavern entrance.

Angel immediately followed accompanied by Faith. After a moment of hesitation, Willow stepped forward with Oz at her side. Cordelia gave Ethan Rayne a threatening stare she reserved exclusively for new cheerleader wanna be's at fall tryouts. Xander added a prod with a stick he had picked up for a weapon.

Rayne gave in as the last three brought up the tail end of the expedition. Cautiously the Scoobies all walked out into the open where the path led downhill, skirting the edge of the cliff descending to the volcanic lake on their left and the rock face looming above to the right.

Suddenly, Buffy grabbed Angel's arm holding him back. Sensing her uncertainty, the others stopped as well.

"Wait . . ." she said, listening.

"What is it?" Angel whispered after a tense pause.

Buffy didn't answer. Desperately she scanned the overhanging rocks and cliffs. Somewhere among the boulders on the slope above the path, pebbles started rolling down. Together, Buffy and Angel glanced up in time to see two large demons, each over seven feet tall, leap down into the middle of the group. In what was clearly not a random attack, each demon swung its scaly arms, quickly taking out the weakest of the party. Willow screamed as she and Cordelia were struck violently to the ground with the wind knocked out of them.

Xander charged swinging his stick wildly. The nearest demon smashed the weapon with a single swipe, grabbed Xander by the collar and pitched him against Ethan who had turned and was about to run off into the forest. Both collapsed in a pile on the gravel path.

Buffy and Angel, joined by Faith and Oz struggled to form some kind of defensive ring, but the demons moved too quickly, even tossing the two Slayers violently about each time they tried to attack. Angel landed blow after blow against one demon but to no effect. The creature reached out and seized him by the neck, attempting to twist it. Oz drew a small concealed hunting knife from Cordelia's supplies out of his belt. He deftly slashed the weapon across the demon's wrist, breaking its grip. Undeterred, the demon struck him with a backhanded sweep of its free arm, sending Oz tumbling onto the edge of the cliff. The knife sailed through the air and disappeared into the inky bubbling liquid below.

"Shit!" he swore out loud as he staggered to his feet and glanced down at the boiling lake, "Where the hell's your evil twin when you need him!"

The larger of the two demons, with yellow eyes and dripping fangs, snatched Buffy by the arm as she attempted to attack once more. It twisted her to the ground, using its one huge foot to hold her flat on her stomach against the loose stones at the edge of the path. Before the others could come to her rescue, the demon bent down and was about to seize her head in its other massive hand, a move that would quickly break her neck and tear her head from her body.

All at once, a third creature leaped out of the boulders from above into the fray. Unlike the first two, it was short, only about five and a half feet tall and reptilian in shape like a small dragon. It landed on the back of the demon holding Buffy and sank both claws and teeth into the creature's neck and shoulders.

The demon rose up bellowing, released Buffy, and with a violent twist shook loose its attacker. Freed, Buffy scrambled away. The dragon, thrown across the path, quickly regained its footing and immediately tore into the demon which had backed Angel up against the rock face. Claws and teeth flashed and its powerful tail flailed the demon over and over across the face, sending it reeling backwards.

Both demons momentarily broke off their assault and backed down the path towards the cavern mouth. Buffy and Angel, joined by Faith and the others, clustered in a defensive arc at the point where the path emerged from the forest into the clearing. About a dozen yards in front of them, the small dragon stood defiantly on its back legs in the center of the path facing the demons. It's tail thrashed back and forth stirring up the gravel and dust on the path.

"Is everybody okay?" Buffy yelled over her shoulder at the group behind her.

Xander knelt beside Willow who lay motionless on the ground.

"Willow?" he shouted trying to rouse her, then called out to the Slayer, "Buffy! Willow's not doing so hot!"

"Get her up!" Angel ordered, not taking his eyes off the three creatures faced off only yards down the path, "We gotta be ready to move fast!"

Xander and Oz hoisted Willow to her feet. Woozy, she draped her arms over their shoulders for support. As if on an invisible signal, the two large demons leaped, dragging the small dragon to the ground. It struggled fiercely, but the power of its two opponents together was too much and it couldn't regain its feet. One demon lashed its claws fiercely across the dragon's face. Blood poured down the gouge wounds. Ethan Rayne yelled at the rest of the group.

"What are we waiting for? We've got our break! Let's get outta here!"

Buffy and Angel started backing away as if they are about to take up Ethan's suggestion. Faith stood her ground, transfixed by the battle in front of them. With each passing second it looked like the small dragon would not be able to hold its own much longer.

"NO!" she shouted as the Scoobies turned to retreat into the forest.

"What is it?" Buffy exclaimed

"'B,' we gotta help the little one!"

"Huh! You're kidding!"

"My dear, dear Slayers," Ethan whined, "It's called beating a strategic retreat and there's nothing dishonorable in it! In fact I consider myself quite an expert on the tactic and . . ."

"SHUT HIM UP!" Buffy snarled.

Cordelia, who had regained her feet, quickly kneed Ethan Rayne hard in the groin.

"Awwww!" he groaned, doubling over.

"You were warned," she announced with malicious pleasure.

"'B'! We all gang up on the one on the left!" Faith pointed at the demon doing the most damage and without waiting for Buffy's reply, ran down the path towards the battle.

"FAITH!" Buffy shouted after her.

"She's dead by herself!" Angel said urgently to Buffy, "Come on!"

Angel, followed by Buffy, raced across the clearing after Faith. All three struck the demon on the left, dragging it off and away from the struggle. Faith and Angel restrained its arms while Buffy threw punch after punch and kick after kick, over and over at the demon's midsection. It struggled wildly, swinging to and fro, dragging itself along with Angel and Faith, to the edge of the path where the ground dropped off down the cliff to the boiling lake below.

Freed of one of its attackers, the small dragon swung it's clawed feet up against the soft underside of the other demon. It flailed away and the large demon backed off, its front bloodied but just in time before the knife like claws could disembowel it.

The creature battling Buffy suddenly yanked one arm free from Faith's grasp. It swung its fist backhanded against Angel, sending him skidding down the path. Buffy backed away. The demon turned on Faith, seizing her by the shoulder and throwing her to the ground, her back to the rocky surface. As it did with Buffy moments before, it placed one giant foot on Faith's chest. The other foot rested on an unsteady flat stone near the edge of the precipice on the path. It reached its clawed hands high over its head and was about bring them down to tear Faith apart when Willow, still dangling in Oz and Xander's arms, came to. She instantly understood what was about to happen.

Her eyes wide, she raised one hand out in front of her and made a sideways motion with her palm as she had in Giles' office directing one of the floating pencils. Beneath the demon, the rock suddenly shifted of its own accord, causing the creature to lose its balance. Sensing a life or death opportunity, Faith shoved its foot upwards with her arms, sending the demon toppling backwards off the path and over the edge of the precipice, down to the boiling lake below.

Its hideous screams echoed from off the boulders and rocks and back out of the cavern mouth. As its body plunged down the stone face, it disappeared in a cloud of mist that had circled up from the black lake. A moment later there was a splash and the sound of vigorous bubbling from the boiling waters. Faith leaped to her feet.

Now with the tables turned, the little dragon sprang forward at its larger tormentor. It slashed ferociously with razor sharp claws striking the demon's face over and over. Clearly bested, the hulking monster pulled back from the fight and retreated down the path to disappear into the darkness of the cavern entrance. The small dragon stood facing towards where the demon had fled and, panting heavily, didn't move to follow.

"Let's get out of here . . . now!" Ethan said under his breath.

Cordelia gave him another warning glare. At the same time, Faith couldn't take her eyes off the small creature standing about twenty feet down the path in front of her. She slowly began walking towards it.

"Faith! Get away from that thing!" Angel shouted

"No, Faith, don't!" Buffy echoed the warning, "We don't know what it is!"

"What the hell is she doing?" Xander watched puzzled at Cordelia's side. She sensed something the others couldn't and quietly told Xander to shut up.

Faith paid no attention to the shouts from Angel and Buffy. As the mists shifted across the path, she walked up behind the creature. It gradually turned to look at her, its face cut and bloodied. For a moment, Faith gazed into its large blue eyes. Then, as if trying to hide the ugliness of its face, the dragon hung its head, covered its snout with its paws and turned away. Faith quickly reached out and touched the creature reassuringly. She pulled one paw down from its face and gently stroked the bloodied forehead. Further up the path, Buffy stood motionless, her mouth open. None of the others spoke but only stared at the unfolding events.

A sad smile spread across Faith's face as she softly caressed the dragon's injuries. Its blood stained the tips of her fingers. Finally she spoke, her voice almost inaudible.

". . . hey . . . ya little twerp . . ."

A thick mist swept suddenly down off the hillside and swirled across the path, blocking off the view of Faith and the creature from the others. It passed by in a moment, and when it was gone, Faith now stood beside a human figure no taller than she. He was grey with the cast of death, beaten and bleeding from the battle and his head hanging. Buffy couldn't take her eyes off what she saw.

". . . oh . . . my . . . God!" she whispered and then almost called out loud, " . . . Scott . . . !"

". . . holy shit . . ." Oz muttered at the same time.

Buffy broke away from the group and dashed down the path. Slowly the others walked through the drifting fog after her down to where Scott Hope and Faith stood.

". . . good moves, kid," Faith said quietly with a grin, "Thanks for bailing us out. . . you look like Hell, though."

"I feel like Hell," he replied, smiling back.

Buffy reached Faith and Scott before the others and stared at him. Slowly, the rest of the Scoobies gathered around them.

"Scott?" Buffy whispered, still not believing the figure standing before her was real and not one of the images from the border world between sleep and waking.

". . . Hi, Buffy . . ."he answered uncertainly as if they were meeting for the first time at the Buster Keaton film festival.

"Scott, I . . ."

She couldn't finish her sentence. Quickly she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him as tightly as she could. Scott squirmed, wincing from his compressed injuries.

". . . Buffy, ow, ow, ow, ow!"

"Oh, sorry," she said, letting go. She wrapped her arms around him again, slowly this time, gently embracing him. She place her lips up against the side of his face and whispered in his ear so only he could hear.

"I never thought I'd see you again . . . I'm sorry. . . . I'm so sorry . . . Please forgive me."

"It's okay . . ." he replied only to her, "I'm okay . . . as long as you're all right, I'll be fine."

Buffy felt wetness against her cheek and realized it was his blood.

"Oh crap! Cordelia, you got any bandages in that Gucci safari kit of yours?"

Cordelia rummaged in the small pack and pulled out some rolled gauze, but Scott interrupted her.

"It's all right. It doesn't make any difference . . . down here. Nothing heals . . . and the pain never goes away."

"I'm not buying it!" Buffy said, snatching the bandages out of Cordelia's hands and trying to wrap up Scott's head wound. Cordelia smirked at the sloppy job.

"Here, let me give you a hand," the head cheerleader said stepping back in. "You don't know how many times I've had to patch up Harmony at practice after a bad toss!"

Cordelia quickly finished the wrapping job. It was tight and tidy. She stood back to admire her work.

"There . . . you're as good as new . . . "she studied Scott up and down, ". . . well sort of."

"I'm telling you," Scott protested, "It doesn't matter down here."

"Yes it does! . . . " Buffy snapped back and then added quietly, "It does to me."

Scott spotted Ethan Rayne who was hovering at the back of the group. All the while he was glancing over his shoulder and looking around for an opportunity to make a break for it back to the forest.

"What's he doing here?" Scott asked coldly as he straightened up.

Angel stepped up beside Cordelia.

"We need him. He knows some of the spells to help us find Giles."

"He knows nothing," Scott replied, glaring at Ethan, "He's like everything down here, . . . a lie."

Scott's gaze at Ethan became hypnotic. His blue eyes intensified in the way Buffy remembered when they fought the vampires outside the old Dearbourne Mansion.

"Now, now, Rarak . . ." Rayne fidgeted nervously, "We mustn't lose our temper here. We've had a lot of misunderstandings in the past but I'm willing to forget all that. We can start fresh . . ."

"Shut . . . him . . . up," Scott said, his voice clearly restrained.

Cordelia immediately complied with relish, kneeing Ethan in the groin again. Ethan doubled over.

"You don't learn, do you," she said as he curled up on the ground. Scott stood over his former tormentor.

"I know what you're going to do . . . even before you do yourself," he said turning to Angel and Buffy. "Keep an eye on him, big time. He's going to betray us all."

Angel and Buffy glared at Ethan who struggled trying to recover from his latest run in with Cordelia. As if pulled by an unseen force, Scott solemnly faced the towering cavern opening.

"We'd better go." His words were cold and emotionless sending chills down the Buffy's back.

Scott walked away from the group towards the black entrance. The others didn't move but only watched, waiting for some signal from Buffy or Angel. Scott stopped beneath the massive stone blocks arching over his head and turned to look back at them.

"But . . ." Buffy called out after him.

"This is the path you must follow," he answered, "I'll lead you. I know the way."

Willow understood.

"Then, you're _our_ Guide. Just like in the book, Buffy."

". . . yeah . . . you're the one MacDuffie said would meet us," Buffy agreed, regaining her confidence.

Scott only nodded. Buffy expected more. She hoped he would have reassuring words to buoy their spirits before they took the first irreversible steps across the threshold. Once past the gate there would be no turning back.

"When I was imprisoned here . . ." Angel said, fighting to retrieve the suppressed memory, "The only thing I remember . . . was a voice that came and whispered not to give up . . . I never recognized that voice . . . until now."

"We'd better go," Scott said, "I can see it coming . . . the darkness is approaching fast. It will find me soon. We don't have much more time."

Led by Buffy and Angel, all the Scooby Gang fell in behind Scott as he walked slowly up to the Gates of Avernus. As they reached the stone archway over the cavern entrance, Xander glanced above at the Latin inscription that seemed to leer down at them.

"Uh, guys . . . what does that thing say? I betcha it isn't 'remember to write home to Mother.'"

"Abandon Hope, all ye who enter here," Willow recited fearfully from memory.

Angel stopped and gazed ahead, his subconscious where the memories were still imprisoned unwilling to re-enter the place of his torment. The others halted and Buffy took Angel's arm, silently encouraging him forward. Scott looked back at them once more.

"Don't be afraid," he said as he stared defiantly up at the inscription, "The Gates lie. Everything down here is a lie. . . . He's the Prince of Lies. Don't believe anything He tells you. He'll use your fears and pain to divide and defeat you. . . . I . . . I can't help you past here, I can only lead you. Beyond the Gates, . . . He commands me."

Faith stood beside Scott.

"No one _commands_ you!" she said, "I've seen your game and you're the one I want watchin' my back!"

"Then you have to believe in me. You're willing to trust me?"

Buffy joined Faith. She spoke quietly so only the three of them could hear.

". . . with all my heart . . . lead us."

Scott turned back to the darkness welling up out of the cavern. He walked forward and the inky blackness ahead seemed literally to swallow him up. Buffy, Faith and Angel followed close behind and they disappeared as well. Then Oz, Willow and Xander entered the enveloping veil of black. Bringing up the rear were Ethan and Cordelia. She pushed him forward as if prodding a skittish donkey.

"Uh, can't we discuss this?" Rayne protested, "There are all kinds of ways to approach our journey here. Now if all of you would just listen to my thoughts on the best way . . ."

"Hey, you forget so quick again?" she threatened without hesitation. Ethan wilted and held his hands up in surrender.

"Sorry . . . I'll be good . . ."

"Right! And Xander's gonna make the National Honor Society!"

As they disappeared across the threshold of the Demon Dimension, Cordelia's voice rang out of the darkness.

"Come on! Pick it up, you wuss!"

For a moment, the path before the Gates of Avernus was vacant and still. Suddenly, a stiff wind sprang up sweeping the sulfuric mists from off the surface of the volcanic lake. The swirling yellow clouds quickly obscured the empty path before the entrance to Hell and flowed like the fingers of Death itself through the stunted barren forest.

TO BE CONTINUED!

If you enjoyed this part, please leave a review.


	8. Chapter 7 Promise You'll Remember

**The Descent to Avernus - Part 7**_  
>By Gaius Petronius<em>

**DISCLAIMER:**  
>Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and every once in a while, torture them. No infringement is intended.<p>

**CONTENT**** NOTE**  
>The following story contains scenes of graphic violence and a little raunchy language. The sequel to <span>The <span>Better Path, The Descent to Avernus appeared originally in script format on the Slayer Fanfic Archive in late season 3, 1999. Heavily influenced by the Columbine High School massacre which occurred at the same time, the story was dedicated with love and hope to the children of Littleton, Colorado. The lyrics to "Secrets and Lies" are the property of G. Petronius, copyright 1999.

**Chapter 7 – Promise You'll Remember**

The Mayor and Mr. Trick stood alone in the wreckage of the Sunnydale High Library. All around them amidst broken chairs and overturned bookshelves the floor was spattered with piles of dust where vampires had disintegrated. The dust mounds formed a diminishing circle around a central point where lay an empty pile of clothing topped by a tweed sport jacket and a leather vest. Lying next to the pile was MacDuffie's jewel encrusted Claymore. Wilkins kicked at one mound of dust near his feet.

"Trick, make a note for the Board of Ed to approve Snyder's request for those Oreck XL's in the maintenance budget."

"Whew!" Trick shook his head with relief, "Wild, man! Good thing you're indestructible. That was one dangerous muther!"

"Still is," the Mayor muttered under his breath as he bent down and picked up MacDuffie's sword. He examined it, admiring the ancient skilled metal work and precious stones. As he did, the Claymore began to glow. A sizzling sound and a small cloud of smoke spread from where the Mayor's hand came in contact with the glowing handle.

Oblivious to the fact that his hand was burning, the Mayor continued to study the sword. Fascinated, Trick stared at the scorching of the Mayor's hand. Finally the Scottish weapon began to split and crumble, finally disintegrating into charred fragments that fell to the floor. Wilkins brushed the blackened remnants of the hilt as well as the shreds of his own seared flesh, off onto a library table. New skin immediately slithered back into place to cover what was burned away.

"Trick? Ever notice how people and things come and go around here so quickly?"

"Sir, if you don't mind my saying so, how are we going to explain to the 'Old Boy' that we blew this deal?"

"We don't," the Mayor grinned unconcerned, "He already knows. Anyway, it's His problem now. I just hope He's a damn site smarter than He looks."

"Sir. . .?"

"All good things must come to an end, Mr. Trick," Wilkins sighed.

Puzzled, Trick waited for a fuller explanation. The Mayor clapped his hands once and pointed his fingers emphasizing his next proposal.

"Trick, whadda ya say while we're waiting to see if our little empire here comes to an untimely demise along with the rest of the Demon Dimension. . . we go out and pick up a couple of six packs . . . and play some miniature golf!"

"Mr. Mayor . . . ?" the vampire stammered.

"I won't hear 'No!'" Wilkins bubbled as he wrapped his arm around Trick's shoulder, and they walked out the library door together. As the two disappeared down the hallway, the Mayor's voice trailed off.

"How about Rolling Rock! That's _my_ favorite! The fresh clear waters of Latrobe, Pennsylvania! None of that snootsy import stuff for me! How 'bout you?"

". . . uh . . . Bud Lite?" Trick floundered choosing the first name that came to mind.

"Uuuggh! Nasty tasting stuff! I'll let you in on a secret? You want to know why they raise all those Clydesdales?"

* * *

><p>Three hours beyond the Gates of Avernus, the entire Scooby Gang halted along the gravel path amidst towering boulders and shattered rocks. All around them, like the wastes of the Sinai Desert, jagged grey cliffs shot up at fantastic angles into low hovering black clouds. Every once in a while a deep rumbling emanated from beneath their feet.<p>

Scott, his head still bandaged, rested against a ledge on the edge of a precipice about twenty feet down the path ahead of the rest of the others. He stared off, his face expressionless, into the whirling mists that obscured what lay ahead . . . and below. A little ways behind him, Buffy and Angel leaned against a pair of scarred boulders. Buffy cast worried glances behind her to the rest of the group. Her main concern was Willow who hung on Oz's arms and had difficulty breathing. Her skin was now a ghastly pale.

A few feet away from them, Faith, Xander and Cordelia formed a circle around Ethan Rayne who stood with his arms folded and tapped his foot impatiently.

"Oz, can we sit down for a sec?" Willow gasped.

"Sure." Oz said, helping her settle on the gravel surface of the path. He sat down beside her, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. Faith kept glancing over at them and finally turned to Xander and Cordelia.

"Keep an eye on this numb nuts," she said thumbing at Ethan, "I'll be right back."

Quickly she walked over to Oz and Willow and squatted down by Willow's side.

"Hey, Red. I didn't get a chance to say 'thanks' back there. You saved my ass."

"Oh . . . gee, that's okay," Willow replied, struggling to catch her breath at the same time, "Finally got to do a little more than just spin pencils."

"You all right? Can I get ya anything?"

"I'm real thirsty," Willow answered weakly.

"Sure . . . Hey! Xander!" Faith yelled over her shoulder, "Throw me one of those canteens!"

Xander took one of the canteens off Cordelia's shoulder and was about to toss it to Faith.

"Not that one! The one with the water!" Faith yelled.

"This _is_ the one with the water!

"Oh, yeah, right!"

"It is!"

"Well check it out fer craps sake!"

Xander unscrewed the canteen cap. Warm Dr. Pepper sprayed out in his face. Shaking her head, Cordelia pulled the other canteen from around her neck and tossed it to Faith who caught it one handed.

"Thanks, Cords," Faith shouted, opening the cap and turning to Willow, "Here, suck on this."

Willow grasped the canteen with the help of Oz and took a few sips. She got the water down but suddenly burst out coughing and choking. Oz covered her mouth with his cupped hand until she finally managed to stop and breathe regularly once more. Oz looked down at his hand and saw blood. Faith caught a glimpse as well, as did Willow. A sudden look of fear crossed Willow's face.

"It's okay. That's nothing," Faith joked reassuringly, "You should have seen me the times I've been punched out. Like the Starred Spangled Banner! You'll be fine, just rest a little bit."

Faith's words had the desired effect. Willow, now calm, closed her eyes and rested her head against Oz once more. Oz glanced up at Faith.

". . . thanks . . ." he said silently mouthing the word to Faith.

She winked back at Oz, stood up and strode down the path to Angel and Buffy. As she left, Willow started to shiver. In a few moments the spasms had spread to the core of her body.

"Oz . . ." she whispered urgently as her remaining strength faded rapidly, "You have to help me with a spell real quick. I only got a couple of seconds."

"Anything, Will. Just tell me what to do."

Down the path, Faith spoke quietly to Buffy and Angel.

"We got a problem. Willow's coughing blood. Must be from when that thing back there whacked her in the chest."

"Probably broke some blood vessels in her lungs," Angel suggested, understanding the seriousness of the situation.

"Could be a busted rib," Faith added.

"Anything we can do?" Buffy asked at the same time glancing back at Willow and Oz.

"I don't think so," Faith replied, "The bleeding might stop on its own. But she's gotta rest."

"But we can't stop now!" Buffy bit her lip with worry. They all knew this setback put the whole expedition in jeopardy. Angel shook his head.

"With Willow like that, I don't think we're going anywhere."

"Let me talk to Scott," Buffy suggested, "Maybe he can think of something."

Buffy walked ahead down the path to where Scott stood against the stone cliff. With the Slayer now out of earshot, Faith turned to Angel.

"How you holding out down here?" she asked, eyeing him up and down.

"Okay, . . . I get flashes of things . . . they're like panic attacks . . . I'll see something that jogs a memory, like back at the gate. I'm worried though, Faith. There's been a moment or two . . . when I felt like the old Angelus was trying to break out."

"You're shittin' me!" Faith felt herself involuntarily take a step back. Angel noticed but didn't care, shaking his head again.

"The closer we get . . . to the Center, . . . the stronger he's going to grow. This is where he comes from. And if something goes wrong, well . . . you got a stake on you?"

Faith's eyes widened at Angel's implied request.

"If you have to, . . . kill him. I don't think Buffy will be able to. . . . Promise?"

". . . yeah . . ." Faith nodded after a pause.

"And keep an eye on Oz. He's probably going through the same thing. He just doesn't realize it yet."

"I'll give him a heads up."

"Don't let Willow hear, okay."

"Hey, you don't think I can be _discreet_?" Faith grinned back at Angel

Both turned to watch Buffy approach Scott.

"She likes him, ya know."

". . . yeah . . . I know," Angel answered, his voice heavy with resignation.

"You want to talk about it? This is probably the last chance we're gonna get."

"Faith . . ." he answered looking directly at her," Whatever happens . . . if we get Giles back . . . if we stop the Ruler of the Kingdom of Death . . . in order to do that, what came before has to be rolled back . . . and that means what we are here today will cease to exist."

"Everybody keeps telling me this," Faith said, trying to make light of the issue that weighed on all the Scooby Gang's minds.

"It's true . . . If we return the Kingdom of Death to its original boundaries, I'll get my old life back . . . but it'll be two hundred years ago . . . a life without Buffy. I've always wondered what I would do if I got a second chance."

"And if we blow it?"

"Then Angelus will survive . . . and I'll be gone. Either way . . . I have to let her go."

"You love her that much." Faith meant it to be a question but it came out as a statement of fact.

"Yeah . . . I do."

Faith stared at Angel, trying to understand the depth of his emotions for Buffy. Finally she shook her head.

"This is so weird. All my Watcher ever taught me was to stake you guys. This deal is nothing I ever learned in Slayer 101."

For a moment, neither spoke. Finally, Angel stared at Buffy and Scott standing together.

"Buffy really likes him?" the vampire asked.

"She won't admit it to anyone."

"And what about Scott?"

"You shittin' me?" Faith almost laughed, "He worships her! I tried to make a couple a passes at him. I'd get a better reaction kissing the Washington Monument!"

"You're getting rusty, Faith," Angel grinned slightly, "You, . . . actually liking a guy."

Faith immediately puffed up.

"How the hell would you know? Don't you start spreading rumors! I got a reputation to uphold!"

She paused and then added quietly, "He kept her from going over the edge, ya know . . . while you were 'gone.' And when she finally flipped out . . . he saved her . . . gave himself to the Angel of Death."

"So I heard. What do you think will happen to him . . . after all this is over?"

Faith thought for a moment and then shrugged her shoulders.

"Who knows. Maybe just turn into a kid. That's why Buffy started going out with him . . ."Faith snickered. "He seemed so _normal!_ What're you checking all this stuff out about Scott for? You're starting to sound like a guy who's getting ready to die."

"I'm already dead, Faith."

"You know what I mean! Geez, that's all we need around here now, a funny ass vampire!"

"I want her to be happy, Faith," Angel answered after a moment, "If all of this is going to change . . . and we have to go our separate ways . . . I want her to forget me forever . . . and be happy."

Looking beyond where Buffy and Scott stood, Angel stared straight ahead off into the mists obscuring the path that disappeared in front of them all. At the same time, Faith regarded Angel, a new respect for the vampire visible in her expression.

Scott glanced up as Buffy approached.

"How's Willow?"

"Not too good. She's started coughing blood."

"You're kidding!" he exclaimed turning to run back up the path to join Oz and Xander now both gathered around Willow. Buffy caught his arm and held him back.

"She's okay," Buffy said trying to sound confident, "Oz is taking care of her. She just has to catch her breath. We can hang out here for a little bit?"

"Sure," he said as both fell into an awkward silence. Finally after a few minutes, Buffy muscled up the courage to speak.

"Scott? . . . Are you mad at me?"

"What?" he asked quietly looking up from the gravel at their feet. Buffy tried again.

"Are you mad at me? . . . for what I did to you?"

"Oh, no! No, no, Buffy," he exclaimed and then answered with conviction. "I made all those choices. Please don't think I'm mad at you."

"'Cause I'd understand if you were."

"Then you don't really know me, " he answered, now discouraged by what he saw as the distance between them. She sensed him pulling back and knew this could be the last time she would be able to reach out to him.

"Actually, I think I know you better than you realize . . . let's see . . . your name is Scott . . ." she said grinning.

He couldn't resist.

"Well, duh!"

"You're quiet," she continued gently, "But you're a real fighter underneath that phony nice guy get up . . . in fact you'll fight anything in Hell." She suddenly paused and stared sadly into his blue eyes. "But you'd rather write poetry . . . and sketch beautiful portraits . . ."

Buffy grinned again, ". . . and you like hot fudge sundaes." She paused for a moment. When she spoke again it was with the slightest hint of fear in her voice. ". . . you can see into the future . . ."

There were a few seconds of silence as Scott turned his head down.

". . . and I think . . . you love me . . ."

Scott looked up at her. Their eyes met. Scott suddenly turned away from Buffy.

". . . no . . . no, Buffy . . . You can't say that. Not here."

"Yes, . . . you do," she said with conviction.

"Buffy, it doesn't matter what I feel. All of this is going to end."

Buffy fought back.

"Which is why it _does_ matter. Because you have to know . . . I have to tell you what _I __feel_ . . ."

"Please don't, Buffy!"

"But Scott, you have to know. I want you to know . . ."

She didn't understand. She had to. He cut her off in mid sentence.

"Buffy, if all this is going to end, then _what__ you __tell__ me __will, __too._ I wander around through this _place,_ and I can hardly stand up sometimes because the pain is so terrible. But then to know. . . what you're going to tell me will not only vanish, but, when everything is changed, I'll probably never remember what you even said . . . and you won't either. Knowing that, . . . that pain, even if it's just for a little while . . . that I don't think I could bear."

Buffy stared at Scott. She impulsively reached her hand up to her eye to wipe away watering that might have been caused by the blowing dust.

"All right . . ." she finally gave in sadly, "I'll keep my secret to myself, then. And I'll tell you . . . and everyone else. . . a little lie instead. That I don't love anyone . . . never have, never will . . . you, Angel . . . anybody . . . There. Does that make it feel any better?"

". . . no . . ." he answered quietly.

"Good. Now you have to promise me something. Promise, that when this is all over . . . you'll remember me . . . and try to find me. That it won't end like this. That you won't just . . . forget. "

Buffy looked away from Scott and stared out into the mists swirling across the path they had to follow.

"I've got a funny feeling that . . . whatever world comes next . . . it's going to be real lonely. And I'm going to need a friend."

Buffy, unseen by the rest of the group further up the path, gently slid her hand into Scott's and squeezed it tightly with a little extra Slayer's strength.

"Promise?" she whispered.

"I promise," he answered firmly without hesitation.

They stood silently for a few moments, Buffy leaning her head against Scott's shoulder. Suddenly behind them, there came the sound of footsteps and crunching gravel on the path. Buffy and Scott spun around. There, facing them, was the entire Scooby Gang lead by Willow, with Oz at her side. Xander, Faith and Cordelia had Ethan Rayne corralled between them. Willow's face was a pasty grey. It was as if she had marshaled up some inner, psychic strength to replace what her body could no longer do.

"Willow? Are you okay?" Buffy asked, surprised to see the first Slayerette on her feet without being supported by Oz.

"That doesn't matter anymore, Buffy," Willow replied. Her whole presence seemed to emanate a sense of peace and at the same time purpose that appeared oddly out of place. "I'm putting my Wicca stuff to good use. We have to keep moving."

"I tried to make her sit still but she threatened to beat me up," Faith said as she put her hands on her hips and struck a pose.

"Me, too," Angel added, barely cracking a grin.

"She said she'd to turn me into a toad!" Xander said with a combination of mock fear and the real thing.

Buffy grinned with affection at Willow despite her misgivings. Willow pulled the cloth wrapped stone out of her pocket. She held it out to Buffy.

"It's getting warmer, Buffy. Here, feel it."

Willow took Buffy's hands in hers and closed the Slayer's fingers around the cloth holding the stone fragment. Willow's skin was cold to the touch.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed turning to Scott, "That means we're getting closer. How much further?"

"We have a couple levels and obstacles to pass through . . . a river crossing and then He'll descend on us. We'll know we're there when He appears.

"A river crossing?" Buffy squirmed at the prospect.

"Yeah . . ." Willow said to Scott, "The Styx, right? And the Boatman will take us across?"

Scott only nodded. Buffy stared uncomfortably at Willow as she returned the stone to her best friend.

"I read the _whole_ book, Buffy, not just looked at the pictures."

Buffy stirred nervously regardless of her friend's reassurances and light comments. She knew nothing was right.

"Will, your hands are icy," she remarked, "You sure you're going to be able to make it all the way there and back? No offence, but you look terrible."

". . . Buffy, I'll make it there . . . but not back."

" . . . What? . . ." the Slayer shook her head.

"That thing that attacked us . . . it punched me really hard. Too hard."

". . . Will? What are you saying?. . ." Buffy felt her voice quiver as she spoke the words.

"My body quit just a few minutes ago. But before it pooped out, Oz and I did a couple quickie spells. You know, to keep the works running just a little while longer. Xander and Cordy helped. Thanks, guys."

Xander and Cordelia both looked down at the ground. Buffy and Angel stared at Willow with growing shock.

"You guys were so busy and you looked so worried, I figured you'd never notice. I know Giles said I'm not supposed to do these spells but, hey what the Hell. It'll be enough to get me there."

". . . Will . . . no . . ." Buffy realized her hands were shaking.

"I'm sorry I failed you guys . . . I died, Buffy. I couldn't help it. . . . I'm not going to last much longer, but it's okay. I mean, after this is all over, everything's going to change, right?" Willow broke into a broad smile, "We'll all be 'normal' again. Whatever that is! But we gotta get going."

Buffy wanted to cry out and throw her arms around Willow but her limbs refused to respond. The Slayer looked around in confusion at the group as if she wouldn't accept what had happened. Desperate to do anything to dispel what she has just heard, Buffy grabbed Willow's hand and desperately rubbed it.

"Willow, you're so cold! We have to get you warmed up! Cordelia, you got one of those plastic hot blankets in all that junk you brought?

Cordelia didn't answer but only stared sadly at Buffy. Oz stepped up and gently separated Buffy from Willow.

"She'll be okay, Buffy. I'll take care of her."

"I guess you did what you had to do, right?" Angel said to Willow.

"Yeah, seems like we're having to do a lot of that lately." She then spoke directly to Angel and Scott. "Oh, guys? . . . I know what it feels like now . . . you two, you're amazing."

Oz, who stood like an honor guard at her side, reached out and ran his hand down her long red hair. He then kissed her tenderly on her grey pale cheek.

". . . Willow! . . . You can't die on me!" Buffy cried out, the despair overwhelming her.

"Oh, shut up, Buffy," Willow smiled back and spoke gently, "I'm the one that always cries, not you."

"She's right, Buffy," Cordelia piped in, trying as much to rally her own spirits as the Slayer's. "You're the strong one. Only Willow and I get to cry . . ."

"Cordelia, you scream," Willow said without malice but clearly stating the obvious.

"Oh, . . . yeah. You're right."

"This is one hell of a party!" Ethan Rayne sounded off. He thought this was another opportunity to sow more seeds of discord among the expedition. "Three dead people and the rest a bunch of bloody sniveling . . ."

That was a mistake.

"Buffy, can I kick him again?" Cordelia asked.

Buffy, wiping away a single tear, nodded to Cordelia. The head cheerleader turned to Ethan before he could get his hands between his legs to protect himself. Cordelia thrust her heavily muscled thigh up sharply and planted her knee in his groin. Once more, Ethan doubled up.

"One more of those and he'll be able to hit high C," Oz dead panned. The whole Scooby Gang took a moment to relish Ethan's agony. Xander sidled up to Cordelia.

"You better be nice to me," she said, and he cringed inside. At the same time, he remembered their previous night together and instinctively glanced around for the Hades equivalent of a broom closet.

"Willow, do you think you're ready?" Scott asked.

"I'm ready," she replied grinning, but her corpse like face made the smile appear subtly disturbing. "The spells won't last long and it's going to get tougher for me to walk all the time. You're the Guide. Lead the way."

Without hesitation, Scott turned back to the path and walked forward into the mists. He was followed by Willow and Oz. Faith, Buffy and Angel joined them with Xander and Cordelia pushing a hobbling Ethan Rayne along at the rear.

* * *

><p>At 2 am, the Sunnydale High library was dark except for the lone green glass shaded desk lamp in Giles' office. The scene appeared strangely peaceful despite the wreckage of bookshelves, tossed volumes, broken furniture and dust everywhere, evidence of the struggle that took place just a few hours before. It was as if the focus of the Scooby Gang's life at Sunnydale was waiting patiently for the next move on the chessboard.<p>

Outside the street was quiet without a car to be seen. A gentle breeze rustled several trees. The only light coming from the school building was a soft glow from the Library windows, the faint light from Giles' desk lamp.

A half a mile away, the sound of breaking glass disturbed the night's tranquility. The Sunnydale Mini-Golf Course was closed but the lights from the street lamps still illuminated the nine holes. Mr. Trick and the Mayor staggered drunkenly around the different tees and course obstacles. Behind them, the golf booth was heavily vandalized with the windows smashed in and the door ripped off its hinges.

Trick and Wilkins each lugged an armful of putting irons from the ransacked booth. Dozens of white golf balls lay scattered everywhere. The Mayor swung wildly at one, sending it careening out into the street.

"FORE!"

There was a crash of breaking glass from out in the dark followed by the wail of a car alarm.

The Mayor spun around to face Trick.

"YES! Hole in One! Free Game!"

* * *

><p>The pathway descended a precipitous cliff face to the edge of the inky water of the River Styx. All around, grey stone and jagged rock rose up out of the river's current, leaving no gentle slope or bank anywhere on the water's edge. Rolling black clouds loomed low over the choppy waters.<p>

There was a steady rush of what at first sounded like wind. After a moment, it was clear that the sound was rather the moaning of souls and came from deep in the river waters. Every now and then an arm, a head or a leg broke the surface, pointed towards the clouds as if striving to grab a foothold in the ether, then sank once more with a bubbling groan below the waters.

At the point where the path reached the river's edge, a long stone projection jutted out into the surging current. It is on this that the Scooby Gang huddled. Scott stood at the outer point of the promontory. Willow, with Oz supporting her, was at his side.

"Where do we go from here?" Xander asked, looking nervously at the waves dashing on the jagged rock face.

"It's okay, Xander," Willow answered peacefuly, "Scott knows the way. He'll get us there."

Xander stared at Willow.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry, Will . . . I just can't get used to seeing you . . ."

"It won't be for much longer," Willow said, trying to calm him down.

"No, Willow! I didn't mean it like that!" he suddenly began floundering, "You gotta stick around! I don't want you to leave!"

Quickly Cordelia took Xander's head and rested it on her shoulder. Comforted for the moment, he closed his eyes and rubbed his face with his hand.

Willow followed Scott's gaze out over the stormy water.

"He's coming, isn't he?"

"He'll be here in a moment."

"Scott? How do you do it?" she asked

"What?"

"You know, keep going. Nothing seems to hold you down. I can barely walk now. I feel like whatever life is left inside me is trickling away even with the spells. I'm so tired . . . I want to just lie down and go to sleep . . . forever."

"Oh . . . that."

Scott reached out and gently stroked Willow's pale cheek.

"That's simple. Willow, it's because you don't belong down here. When it's finally over, this is not where you're going to be."

". . . and you?" Willow asked softly.

"NO!" Buffy shouted, "Scott, you don't belong here either!"

She still didn't understand. He realized she had to not only know it in her mind but accept it in her heart.

"Buffy, many of us are here not because of what we are or what we did, but because He seized us as He has outspread His Kingdom . . . Angel, me, so many others beyond counting . . . that's why we must push Him back. We are not here just to free Giles, but all those souls imprisoned over the last three centuries. That's why you are here, Buffy. That's what he doesn't want you to know."

His words made the chills run up and down her spine. Scott turned and gazed out over the churning waters. He pointed off into the distance.

"There . . . he's coming . . . Charon."

"Yeah, I can see him," Willow answered straining her eyes. The Boatman."

A tiny ghost-like figure, whiter than snow, a heavily muscled but ancient man appeared gliding fainting in the distance over the waters. He skillfully guided his bounding craft amidst the underwater obstacles that could easily puncture the hull and send it to the bottom. Charon, the boatman was naked, covered only at the waist by a tattered loin cloth. The open boat had no sail but rather was propelled by the boatman's powerful thrusts on a single oar that he worked from side to side.

"This is a joke, Rarak," Ethan wheezed, still not fully recovered from his most recent run in with Cordelia. "Only three of you can pass, the dead ones. Charon won't carry the living across."

"You know, Mr. Rayne," Scott answered, his voice as icy as the waters dashing at their feet, "With all your knowledge and your 'contacts' you wouldn't survive ten minutes down here on your own. Your Father's own subjects would tear you to pieces before you'd gone twenty feet . . . with good reason."

Scott's statement suddenly struck the entire expedition with the force of a sledgehammer blow. Buffy, Angel and the rest, their faces blanched with horror, turned to stare at Ethan. Only Willow didn't react, as if she already knew.

"Wait a minute! You're telling me that this bastard . . ." Buffy could barely control her rising fury.

"Thank you, Rarak," Rayne acknowledged the expedition as if he were taking a bow on stage, "Maybe now the rest of you teenage twits will treat me with a little respect."

Cordelia moved as if to knee Ethan in the groin again.

"Ah, ah, ah! I wouldn't do that if I were you. _He__ may __just __be __watching __now_!"

"You stinking little worm!" Faith snarled, taking a step forward at the same time, "I should've chopped your head off back at the store room!"

"But I thought he was here because he knew how to get Giles back!" Angel struggled to come to grips with the threat now in their midst. Ethan glowered at him.

"Oh, yes, I would do _anything_ for my good buddy, Ripper!"

"Guys," Willow calmly explained, "Mr. MacDuffie sent him along because he was too dangerous to leave behind."

"I'm flattered!" Rayne's words dripped sarcasm.

"Willow's right." Scott said, supporting Willow, "Whatever's going to take place, . . . it'll involve betrayal . . . and he'll be at the center of it."

"Well, thank you again, Rarak. Finally this party is beginning to perk up a little!"

Faith, despite her size, suddenly loomed threateningly inches away from Ethan.

"Well, I for one, vote to pitch the bastard off the rocks right now!"

Scott quickly put his hand on Faith's shoulder.

"Nothing would give me more pleasure, Faith, but he has to come with us."

"But he knows everything!" Buffy protested, "He's like a spy! The Ruler now knows what he does!"

Scott stared at Ethan with steely suppressed anger.

"Buffy, Ethan Rayne may be dangerous, but he's a liar . . . and he's an idiot. Always remember, everything down here is a lie. That's what Ethan and his kind will use against us . . . to confuse us and turn us away from our purpose."

Rayne huffed as if he had just been insulted.

"Besides, the Ruler of the Kingdom of Death has known about us for centuries," Scott added, "He knows we're coming. But what He can't figure out is how it all finishes . . . that's where we fight Him on an equal footing."

Faith shoved Ethan, the implied threat fully evident.

"Okay, I'll put up with this scrawny smelly booze hound but . . ." Here she directed her words right at Ethan, "Don't get too close to me in that boat unless you wanna go for a swim."

Charon and his boat loomed closer to the rock on which the Scooby Gang was clustered. He yelled at the group in a gruff voice.

"I sense living among you there! No living! Only the dead may cross!"

"I told you," Rayne said under his breath to Scott who ignored the remark.

"Charon!" Scott called out and waved.

"Is that you, Rarak?" came the Boatman's surprised response.

"That's me!"

Charon back paddled his boat a few feet away from the stone outcropping. He guided the hull near the rock so that the gunwales gently rolled level with where the group stood.

"Well, I'll be! It _is_ you!" Charon replied, "Not as fearsome as I last remember when you pitched those smelly demons overboard that peed in my boat. But I will say, the look becomes you. I like it."

"We need to cross, Charon. We got some _business_ with the asshole that runs this dump."

"Well, I can take you and the little red head." The Boatman pointed to Angel. "And that big fellow in the back. But that's all." He then singled out Ethan with an obscene gesture. "And especially not that pile of Cerebus feces you got hanging around with you there!"

Ethan Rayne gasped as Willow snickered.

"I knew you couldn't make it down here," Scott said at the same time turning to Charon. "Listen, this is a special case, Charon, and I need your help . . . real bad."

Scott waved his hand at the rest of the Scooby Gang.

"My friend . . . these are _the__ Seven_."

Charon scratched his balding head and spoke slowly with amazement.

"Well . . . burn . . . my . . . clothes!"

"Charon, you don't have any clothes! You never did!"

"Ah, but I can dream, can't I!" the Boatman joked back, then became serious, "So! These are the ones that are going to kick that fat bastard back three hundred years! Rarak, my boy! I can't wait! I'm so sick of hauling across those who have no business here. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind giving you and your friends a lift."

"I appreciate that," Scott answered sincerely.

"It's just . . . it pisses me off . . . the good ones He keeps snatching and how He's gotten away with it for three centuries! I have enough work to do just carting over the rotten ones. And believe me there are still plenty of those! Finally a little true justice'll be done!"

"And I'd like you to meet a special friend of mine, Buffy Summers," Scott said as he singled out Buffy, "She's the Slayer."

"Oh . . . oh my," the Boatman suddenly wilted with embarrassment.

Charon quickly tried to straighten his loin cloth. He licked one palm and ran it across his unruly white shocks of hair, pressing hard to hold the scraggly strands in place over the bald spot on the top of his head. Buffy had to grin.

"Excuse me, Miss," Charon apologized, "I'm just a gruff old ferryman. I don't mean no offence. Please, climb in. And your friends, too."

Buffy clambered in followed by the rest of the group. As Ethan climbed aboard, Charon growled at him under his breath. Scott was last. As he stepped lightly over the gunwales into the boat, Charon whispered to him.

"I didn't make a fool of myself in front of the ladies, did I? Cussin' and all?"

"You were a perfect gentleman. You only called Rayne a pile of Hell-hound shit!" Scott replied with a rare smile that Buffy had rarely seen and found now wonderfully infectious.

"Oh . . . well . . . couldn't be helped," Charon pondered and scratched his head again.

"Sir, aren't we supposed to pay you with some kind of a coin?" Willow asked the Boatman, "To take us into the Kingdom of the Dead?"

"Put it on my tab!" Scott's grin spread even wider as he placed his hand on Charon's shoulder.

"You're good for it aren't you, boy?" the old Boatman growled.

"Hey, have I ever stiffed ya?"

"And now you're making jokes about my job!"

Laughing, Scott sat down next to Buffy who couldn't take her eyes off him. At the same time, Charon cast the boat off from the rock promontory and guided the craft out into the current. The sound of moaning from deep in the waters increased.

"All right everyone!" Charon shouted seriously to the passengers, "Hands away from the sides! Keep your eyes turned up! And whatever you hear, no looking down into the waters! Understood?"

"Why?" Cordelia asked, her voice now laced with fear, "What's down there?"

"It's not _what_, Missy . . . but _who_."

As the boat crashed through the choppy waters, spray flew up across the bow and drenched the occupants. All the while the moaning, like a rising wind, kept building. Xander suddenly sat up straight, his attention caught by something in the cacophony.

"Listen . . ." he said intently, grabbing Cordelia's arm at the same time.

"What?" Cordelia shivered as she pulled her arm away, "There's nothing but groaning."

"I hear his voice . . . Can't you hear it?"

"Whose?"

"Don't look down, boy!" Charon shouted a warning over his shoulder.

Xander ignored the boatman. He grabbed the gunwales and gazed over the side into the inky waters. Rising up out of the depths, a hand broke the surface, followed by a bleached white face. Cordelia gasped. It was Xander's old childhood friend, Jesse, who was harvested shortly after Buffy came to Sunnydale.

"Jesse!" Xander whispered even though he had tried to shout.

"Xander? It's you? Help me . . ." the corpse gurgled and thrashed weakly in the water.

Without a second thought, Xander snatched the dead arm reaching up out of the water. He pulled, trying to haul Jesse's body up into the boat. Suddenly a hand rested on his shoulder. It was Scott.

"Xander, he can't come on board. None of them can."

"Why! He doesn't belong here! It wasn't his fault!"

"That's why we're here . . ." Scott said, sharing Xander's agony. "Let him go."

"I'm sorry, Jess my man," Xander almost wept to the corpse, "I can't, not now. But I'll be back! I swear! . . . I'll be back for you!"

"I believe you," the corpse said, the faintest shred of hope in its voice, "Thanks, you're a good bud."

Jesse released his grip on Xander's hand. As the white arm and face swirled to stern, Xander and Scott watched it disappear in the darkness. Cordelia sobbed quietly at Charon's feet. The old boatman spoke quietly to her.

"I warned him not to look down."

Cordelia, several tears staining her cheeks, stared up at the ancient ferryman.

"You love him, don't you Missy."

Cordelia nodded slightly.

". . . good . . . a good choice," Charon smiled at her, "I see gold in that heart."

The boat plunged forward towards the opposite bank. All the Scooby Gang had their attention trained on the shore. All that is except Xander who would not turn his gaze away from the spot in the darkness, now far astern, where his friend had disappeared.

* * *

><p>TO BE CONTINUED!<p>

As usual, if you enjoyed this part, please leave a review.

Pax,  
>Petronius<p> 


	9. Chapter 8 That Which is Forbidden

**The Descent to Avernus - Part 8**

_By Gaius Petronius_

DISCLAIMER:  
>Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and every once in a while, torture them. No infringement is intended.<p>

**CONTENT ****NOTE**  
>The following story contains scenes of graphic violence and a little raunchy language. The sequel to <span>The<span> Better Path, The Descent to Avernus appeared originally in script format on the Slayer Fanfic Archive in late season 3, 1999. Heavily influenced by the Columbine High School massacre which occurred at the same time, the story was dedicated with love and hope to the children of Littleton, Colorado. The lyrics to "Secrets and Lies" are the property of G. Petronius, copyright 1999.

**Chapter 8 – That Which Is Forbidden In This Place**

The darkness was so intense, Giles couldn't see anything, walls, doors, ceilings, nothing. Lying on his back and somehow restrained, he could barely sense up or down, forward or backward.

His face was beaded with sweat and his eyes closed but not in sleep. Rather he battled to shut out the flood of horrific images pouring into his brain from an unseen source in the darkness. Giles rolled his head back and forth and groaned.

". . . no, no . . . no . . ."

Out of the darkness, the Voice of his tormentor answered.

"Yes . . . yes. Fascinating images you have there, Mr. Giles. I've never seen nightmares, fears, . . . one's very own Hell so focused on a single individual."

". . . No . . . leave her alone . . . she's not part of this!" Giles growled.

"Oh, yes she is. She and her little group there, they're the ones who can bugger up all my plans."

Realizing anything he said would be turned back against him, Giles didn't answer. Rather he attempted to control the deluge of nightmare visions by breathing regularly.

"Oh! . . . very good! Where'd you learn about cleansing breathes?"

Giles ignored the taunting.

"She's like the daughter you never had. And now, she and all of her little friends are coming . . ." the Voice dripped with intense sarcasm, "To rescue you! How quaint!"

"NO!"

"Right into the depths of my own realm!"

"Buffy! No! Turn back!"

"Where my powers are virtually unlimited!"

"No! Buffy! NO!" Giles now writhed in agony.

"How does it feel, . . . RUPERT?" the Voice answered viciously.

Giles' eyes snapped open in terror at the sound of his name. The Voice rang with a hideous familiarity in the darkness, although whether it was Ethan Rayne or not Giles couldn't tell.

". . . to be . . . BAIT!"

* * *

><p>The Sunnydale Mini Golf looked like someone had tossed in several will placed grenades. Golf balls and putting irons lay strewn wildly up and down the miniature fairways. Several obstacles including a fairy tale castle and a green Tyrannosaurus Rex were overturned and in the case of the monster dinosaur, vandalized with empty Rolling Rock beer bottles in a particularly obscene fashion.<p>

Midway down the eighth hole by a still upright windmill obstacle, Mayor Wilkins sat in a drunken daze and leaned up against its base. The sails of the windmill still turned and every several rotations, the Mayor tipped in close enough so the sail whacked him in the back of the head. At his feet lay three scattered six packs of bottled beer, some unopened, others drained. Empty beer bottles also formed a trail leading from the vandalized buildings, around the different miniature fairways, and finally ending at the windmill.

There was no sign of Mr. Trick. The Mayor, between the occasional smack on the head by the windmill sail, gazed up at the sky and rambled philosophically.

"You know, Mr. Trick, I always wondered how I'd feel facing the end of the world. Who would have known that the primary concern on my mind would be . . . that I gotta take a leak something fierce! . . . But then I _am _indestructible. Mr. Trick? . . . "

There was no reply.

". . . Trick? . . . yoo hoo? . . ."

Suddenly from a water barrier on the front of a neighboring green came the noise of flopping and splashing. The Mayor perked his head at the sound. As he did, the windmill sail whacked him again.

"Tricky? Tricky poo? That you?"

A slurred voice shouted from below the rim of the water trap.

"I'm thirsty, man! . . . throw me a babe!"

"Sorry, only got beer here," Wilkins answered, honestly apologetic.

"Well, God Damn!" Trick yelled to the night sky.

The Mayor picked up a full bottle of beer and lobbed it in the direction of the water barrier.

"Heads Up!" he sang out.

The bottle landed on the pavement beside the water barrier and smashed with a popping crash.

"What the . . .?"

"Sorry, . . ."the Mayor said as he lobbed a second bottle. "Heads UP!" This time the missile landed in the water barrier with a loud splash.

"SHIT! Incoming!" Trick squalled as he thrashed in the algae laden water.

The Mayor refined his aim and tossed a third bottle. As the bottle sailed into the water barrier and disappeared from view, there was a muffled thud as if the glass had hit something soft.

"OW!"

"Bingo! You got that one!" Wilkins announced with triumph.

There was a moment of silence.

"Mr. Trick?"

A groan drifted from the direction of the water barrier.

"Oh come on! This is good brew!" the Mayor complained, "You're not gonna waste it by blowing lunch on me already?"

Wilkins struggled to his feet. As he steadied himself, the sail on the windmill, as if bidding him a fond farewell, whacked him on the head one final time. In response, the Mayor drunkenly swatted behind him. The blow struck the arm of the sail, ripping the moving part from out of the windmill's wooden frame.

The Mayor swung around again, this time his outstretched arm connected with the body of the obstacle, bringing the entire upper half of the windmill down in a shattered pile of framing and cheap fir shingles. Several sparks from the shorted out sail's electrical motor danced in the wreckage which started to smolder.

Wilkins studied the destructive results with satisfaction and then staggered over to the water barrier. He reached down below the coping and dragged Trick up by his collar. Trick was completely soaked with the green, algae infested water and he flopped in the Mayor's grasp like a half dead fish.

"There you are!"

The Mayor pulled Trick up to the ninth green and dropped him against the vandalized ticket booth. Wilkins took out a cloth handkerchief, wiped his hands and sat down beside Trick, who had finally passed out.

"You shouldn't take something like this so personally . . ." the Mayor sighed to the foul smelling pile next to him, "The end of the world I mean. It's just business, you know. Just because our little empire here may cease to exist doesn't mean we should get so PMS'y about it. Me . . . I'm actually looking forward to a little change of pace."

The Mayor glanced over at Trick who snorted in his drunken stupor. Wilkins shrugged his shoulders at the less than enthusiastic response.

"I mean, all the responsibilities of an elected official . . . who needs 'em? There is something to be said for being free just to hide under beds and terrorize four year olds."

Trick groaned.

". . . I no wanna die . . ."

"Oh, now, now. Don't be such a gloomy gus," the Mayor chatted away as he patted Mr. Trick on the shoulder. "You and I, we'll still have a place in the new world. After all, there will still be plenty of wars. And genocide, don't forget genocide. I mean, whole nations of people believe in it right now! In fact, I just saw something on AOL the other day . . ."

The Mayor thought deeply for a moment.

"Yes! Ethnic Cleansing," he announced with excitement as the lights in his mind came on, "That's the expression they use now. Has a wonderful surgical quality, don't you think?" Wilkins poked Mr. Trick in the ribs, trying to elicit any kind of response.

"Uuuggh! I'm gonna hurl," Trick groaned as he wallowed on the green. The Mayor ignored the vampire as he talked himself into a new level of enthusiasm.

"Yes, Trick, you and I, we'll always be there! We'll prey on gullible minds, infest empty souls! Whenever a politician or true believer declares black to be white and white to black, empty to be full and full to be empty, we'll be there! Whenever the demons of the mind subvert the soul, preaching love is hate and hate is love, we'll be there! Wherever the madness of empty frustration builds until it overwhelms all sense of sanity turning children against children, we'll be there!"

Trick only moaned in response.

"Yes, Mr. Trick . . . I don't think it's going to be such a bad world after all!"

Suddenly a pair of uniformed legs appeared before the Mayor and Mr. Trick. Mayor Wilkins looked up and grinned at the official representative of Sunnydale law enforcement.

"Hi!" Wilkins sang out as if he were greeting a potential registered voter or prospective sacrificial victim for the Ascension.

"All right, boys," the officer said with cool detachment as he pulled out a set of cuffs, "Hands out where I can see them." The red and blue lights from a patrol car flashed in the background.

The Mayor gave the policeman a look of "Who? Me?"

"Now Officer, you don't think _we_ did all of this? The place was a mess when we got here. Wasn't it, Mr. Trick? Besides, I'm Mayor Wilkins! I'm invulnerable! And this is my assistant, Mr. Trick! He's a vampire!"

"Right, and I'm Prince Charming," the officer replied, now fingering the aerosol container of pepper spray on his belt.

"Nooo! Really? I'd never recognize you in that . . ."

The police officer pulled his two way radio out of the hip holder. The radio beeped and buzzed with static.

"Roger, Charlie one niner. I'm gonna need back up here."

"Hey, Trick, wake up!" The Mayor punched the drunken form of Trick, "It's some Prince somebody!"

Trick groaned and rolled away out of sight into a clump of ornamental shrubs. In a moment the sound of vomiting could be heard from the bushes.

"Oh . . . I didn't realize you two had met," Wilkins responded with surprise as he staggered to his feet. The officer quickly stepped back, drew his pepper spray and took aim.

* * *

><p>Buffy, Scott and the rest of the Scooby Gang left the boatman, Charon, far behind. Scott led the way on the trail that wound up from the surging waters of the Styx into the jagged peaks surrounding the river. The path passed through a canyon of blasted wastes where boulders and stone outcroppings jutted out at bizarre and fantastic angles from the ground and surrounding cliff walls. Lining the rock faces that soared up around them, were scattered black holes cut into the dark stone. They could have been mistaken for cavern openings if they didn't resemble so much the entranceways for ancient rock tombs. All around them a quiet moaning, like the sound of a rising and falling wind, drifted among the tortured landscape.<p>

As the Scooby Gang moved further into the region of the damned, they spotted clusters of motionless robed figures, their faces hidden under black hoods. The mysterious figures stood by the sides of the path and off among the rocks. Buffy, Angel and the others gazed intently at the apparitions as they passed, but a silent look from Scott warned them that these phantoms were not to be disturbed. Xander, in particular, eyed them closely, almost expectantly, as if beneath the concealing cloth might lie buried another familiar face, a friend or a fellow student that had perished at the hands of the demons he and the others had fought for three years.

With each new step, the path climbed higher, at times slicing into the stone cliffs themselves, forcing Buffy and the others to slither in single file through claustrophobic hallways of rock. The Gang struggled around and through each obstacle. Suddenly, Cordelia's backpack snagged on a jagged edge. Stopping with a little gasp, she squeaked for the others.

"Uhh . . . uhh . . . guys . . . Xander!"

Protectively, Xander ran back to her side, untangled the straps and gave her a reassuring hug. Everyone moved forward once again. Willow, her arm wrapped tightly over Oz's shoulder, was now barely able to walk. She hobbled along, dragging her feet with every painful step. Oz quietly reassured her, keeping her spirit strong.

After several more hours, the trail passed out into the open once more, circling along the rim of a cliff that dropped off behind down to a lake of molten lava. To the other side of the trail, the ground rolled gently lower into a clearing of gravel and sand. Steam rose from dozens of fumaroles scattered through the open area while the robed figures stood clustered around a central location in the clearing.

There, nailed cruciform fashion to a large flat stone, lay a naked man. His long unkempt hair and beard were hardened with dried blood and thin rivulets of red drained away from his pierced hands and feet.

Buffy immediately recognized the condemned soul portrayed in Giles' volume of Dante's Inferno. She stopped abruptly and the others held up as she did. They all followed her gaze to the gruesome sight.

"This is it," Scott said in a low voice after a few moments, "We're here."

"What happens now?" Willow asked between short breaths.

"We wait."

The wailing from out of the chasms and boulders echoed off the towering cliffs. Looking up, Buffy could dimly see amidst the barrel rolling clouds, streams of thousands of damned souls blown through the sky on tornado like winds.

"Does He know we're here?" Angel asked nervously, his gazing straying upwards following Buffy's.

"Oh, yeah . . ." Scott answered, "He's just playing with us. But remember, everything He says is a lie. It's all lies."

Ethan Rayne grinned smugly as he stood between Cordelia and Xander. Faith gave him a rough shove.

"Hey! Wipe that shit eater grin off yer face!"

Ethan turned to Faith, his smile dripping malevolence. He spoke to the Slayer slowly with emphasis.

"I'll make sure . . . you get yours _especially!_"

Faith swaggered up to Ethan and poked him in the chest.

"I'm looking forward to it! After old man MacDuffie hogged all the fun up in the Library, I figure, now it's my turn to party!"

Faith leered up at Ethan, her face only inches away from his.

"Besides, whatcha gonna do 'bout it, weasel boy? Cry fer Daddy?"

Ethan's eyes blazed with fury. Faith turned away from Ethan.

"Yeah, I figured as much!" she said and then called out. "You're right, Scott! This dude is a _loser!__"_

Through the whole exchange, Buffy was silent, her gaze now fixed on the tormented soul nailed to the stone. Finally she spoke to Cordelia but didn't look at her.

"Cordelia . . ." she asked barely above a whisper, "Gimme your water canteen."

Without speaking, Cordelia passed the canteen to Buffy who took it and walked down towards the altar like stone at the center of the clearing. Angel called out after her.

"Buffy? Where are you going?"

"Hey, Buffy," Xander chimed in, "We better stick together here!"

Willow shook her head, and although her voice was soft and raspy, everyone heard and understood.

"No . . . let her go, guys. . . . that's _her__ Hell_."

None of the Scoobies spoke for a few moments as Buffy picked her way down the slope towards the clearing. Finally, Angel turned to Scott.

"Hey, . . . maybe you better go with her."

Puzzled, Scott stared at Angel. Their eyes locked as if the two were communicating as only the dead can without words.

"Go on . . ." Angel finally said quietly, "This is your territory . . . she might need you."

Scott hesitated only a few seconds more. Finally he nodded at Angel, turned and followed Buffy down the slope.

"Mighty noble, there, Big Guy," Xander said to Angel as Scott walked out of earshot. Angel's response sounded like he was speaking to himself rather than to the other members of the expedition.

"Noble's got nothing to do with it. It's almost over. . . I could see it in his eyes. There are just a few minutes left."

At the same time, Willow leaned closer to Oz as she hung on his shoulder.

"I know you love me, Wolfy," she whispered, "But when things get bad, you gotta remember . . . I'm already dead . . . so don't go risking yourself trying to protect me."

"Willow, I got other instructions . . . from Mr. MacDuffie," he answered with his understated tone of voice that always said so much more.

"The big vampire's right," Ethan Rayne grinned evilly at Faith. "You all are about to get wiped out quite painfully!"

Faith shoved Ethan hard in the chest.

"You got that one wrong, weasel boy! This is how we're gonna beat the crap outta you . . . and Mr. D!"

Ethan Rayne glowered all the more at Faith

Scott followed Buffy down the path to where the naked soul lay slowly writhing on the stone. Blood spread across the flat stone from where the condemned man's hands and feet were nailed down. Buffy, the canteen firmly grasped in front of her, fearfully drew closer. As she did, the robe shrouded figures, almost in deference, parted and allowed her to pass. A little ways behind her, Scott stopped and waited. He didn't try to catch up with her, but rather let the Slayer approach on her own.

Buffy stood silently before the tormented soul. She gazed down at him as he weakly struggled to free himself, pulling at his anchored arms and feet. Finally, Scott joined Buffy and stood right beside her. For a few moments, neither said anything. When Buffy spoke at last, she didn't direct her words at Scott, but rather at the blasted landscape around her and the threatening clouds overhead, as if her question were asked of Hell itself.

". . . Who is he? . . ."

Scott's answer sounded as if it came from the very rocks and stones surrounding them.

"He is ancient . . . a few claim he's Caiaphas, the High Priest. But the truth is he's far older . . . he's been here since the dawn of humanity."

Buffy tried to recite from memory.

"He who said it was better for one,  
>. . . to suffer for the good of many."<p>

She unscrewed the canteen cap, stepped up to the stone platform and knelt down beside the naked man. She tipped the canteen toward his parched lips so that the water ran into his open mouth. Suddenly aware of his benefactor, the tortured soul turned his head towards Buffy and gulped desperately of the clear water pouring from the canteen.

". . . easy . . . easy . . . not too fast . . ." the Slayer said very quietly.

Finally the crucified spirit's thirst abated and he stared up at Buffy. His voice croaked like the sound of someone who hadn't spoken for a very long time.

". . . who . . . are . . . you?"

"I am you . . ." she answered sadly, "If I fail . . . when this is all over, I'll be back . . . to keep you company."

The tortured soul closed his eyes and allowed his head to rest on its side as if the stone platform were the softest of pillows.

All of the Scooby Gang, their eyes trained on Buffy and Scott, watched the actions unfold. The only exception was Faith who kept a careful guard on Ethan Rayne. Then slowly Willow drew the stone fragment out of her pocket and carefully unwrapped it from its protective cloth. Her motions caught Ethan Rayne's attention.

Before the altar stone, Buffy stepped away from the crucified soul and stood beside Scott. As she did, the surrounding shrouded figures moved back, each one bowing with respect. Their motions spread outward from those around the stone to the specters on the slope and up the cliff side like a gentle ripple expanding from a lone pebble dropped in a still pond. Puzzled, Buffy stared at them.

"What are they doing?" she asked Scott.

"Acknowledging that they have seen what they are not permitted to see."

"But, Scott . . . ?"

She stopped in mid sentence. She couldn't look away from his face. The marks, the scarring, even the dark brown hair that hung down over his forehead seemed suddenly imbued with the very essence of Hell. He was truly weary. For the first time, Buffy could see and feel his years of torment and what it had done to his soul.

He answered quietly, hesitantly.

"Buffy, when you show compassion and love for the damned . . . even the very least of us . . . you have shown it to all . . . giving them that which is forbidden in this place, . . . hope."

She couldn't bear it any longer, concealing her emotions, the "little lies," the denial. It all had to end here and now. It didn't matter whether their world was about to end in the next few moments. She had to say what she felt so that it would at least have a chance of surviving.

". . . and you're not the least among them . . ." she said, her face drawing close to this.

Scott slowly lowered his head, trying not to look directly at Buffy. But she reached out with her hand and turned his face up to gaze into her green eyes. She then leaned forward and kissed him, her lips gently touching his. In that instant, both were standing again under the porch light outside her home back in Sunnydale.

She ran her hands across his disheveled hair and caressed the bruises and scars on his face. As their lips parted, she could see the moisture beginning to form in Scott's eyes as he bowed his head again and buried it in her hair that spilled across her shoulders.

Not speaking, Buffy wrapped her arms tightly around Scott, as if she were trying to pass all of her Slayer's strength to him and, through him, to the souls of the condemned all around them. For just a moment, she imagined that the sound of the moaning, their ever present companion since the crossing of the Styx, had somehow fallen silent for the first time in thousands of years.

Angel stared down beyond the boulders to the clearing where Buffy held Scott. He lowered his head and sighed. His movement distracted Faith from her watch over Ethan.

"You okay, Big Guy?" she asked

". . . any moment now . . ." was his fearful answer.

"Any moment what?"

Ignored by the others, Ethan Rayne leered at Willow, his eyes locked on the stone fragment.

Suddenly, Scott raised his head off Buffy's shoulder as a sense of building panic spread across his face.

"Scott? What is it?"

". . . He's coming . . . Buffy, He's coming!"

Scott looked wildly around him. His eyes suddenly settled on the Scooby Gang dozens of yards away up on the path.

". . . Willow! . . ." he whispered in desperation, "It's Willow He's after!"

Scott yanked away from Buffy's embrace and ran, dodging rocks and the shrouded phantoms. Buffy broke into a sprint after him.

"WILLOW! LOOK OUT!" he screamed.

Ethan Rayne suddenly sprang catlike towards Willow. He dropped Xander with a quick punch to the face and shoved Cordelia aside. Faith, who was distracted by Angel and caught off guard, took a swing at Ethan but only connected with thin air. Hearing her name called by Scott, Willow glanced up from the stone just as Ethan grabbed a fist full of her long hair and dragged her off of Oz's shoulder. Snatching the stone out of her hand, Ethan quickly had Willow and the ancient rock fragment dangling on the edge of the path where it dropped off to the volcanic lava pool hundreds of feet below.

"Party's over! Don't anybody move!" Rayne said coldly.

Scott and Buffy raced towards the Scooby Gang. As they did, Scott's body morphed into his reptilian/dragon form. Fore paw claws bared, he charged in long strides, his blue eyes blazing furiously, towards Ethan. Rayne spotted the threat. His sardonic demeanor quickly dissolved into one of sheer panic.

"Rarak! Keep away from me! Or I'll . . ."

Scott's demon form didn't slow its charge. Rayne winced as he cowered down.

"Oh Shit! Rarak!"

As Scott was seconds away from sinking his talons into Ethan, an invisible force, like a sweeping hand of wind, slammed into Scott, lifted him off his feet and sent him hurtling violently against a rock face a few feet away. He dropped to the ground and lay still where he had fallen. In an instant, his body returned to its original human form.

"SCOTT!" Buffy yelled as she and Faith ran to his side. At the same time, Angel, Oz, Xander and Cordelia formed a menacing circle around Ethan who threatened to toss both Willow and the ancient stone fragment off into the lava pit below. Unable to stand, Willow dropped to her knees on the brink of the cliff. The only thing holding her from toppling over the edge down into the crater of fire was Ethan's grasp on her long red hair.

Buffy was the first to reach Scott but she halted and didn't kneel down beside him. The bandage was ripped off his head and his whole face swathed in blood. His left arm, almost yanked from its socket, dangled at his side at a grotesque angle while his right leg was twisted out to one side. He was still breathing and his eyes were open but staring ahead, glassy.

"Scott! Scott!" Buffy cried out as she stood over his body. Faith was at her side in an instant.

"Get a grip, 'B!' This is it, isn't it, kid? The battle starts now?"

Scott barely nodded. Faith, her face a mask of fury, turned towards Ethan Rayne.

"Oh, you are going down _soo__ bad!_" she snarled at Rayne. "Take care of Scott for me, 'B.'" she said to Buffy.

"What the hell are you gonna do?"

"What I shoulda done back in Sunnydale!"

Pushing aside Angel and Xander as she entered the ring of Slayerettes, Faith strode purposefully towards Ethan and Willow. At the same time, Buffy knelt down beside Scott's broken body.

"Scott . . . can you move? . . . what can I do?" she asked as she struggled to contain her short circuiting emotions.

". . . forget me . . ." he whispered.

"NO!"

"Buffy, it's started!" Scott gasped as blood began to run from his mouth, "He's all around us, the Ruler of the Kingdom of Death! You must make your stand now! Believe nothing He says! Nothing you see! He and all of this are lies!"

Faith swaggered up to within a few feet of Ethan.

"No closer, Slayer!" Rayne shouted as he shook Willow by the hair.

"Easy, man!" Faith replied, putting on her best seductive pose, "I'm not gonna give you a hard time. I gotta deal for you though. Something that might impress . . . Mr. D."

"Oh, come on! What could you possible offer . . ."

"A trade . . . for Dead Red there . . . me."

Ethan was silent.

"Faith, what the hell are you doing!" Xander shouted.

Cordelia quickly shushed him under her breath.

"She's good, Xander. She's real good."

"Not bad, huh!" Faith continued as she thrust her ample hip to one side. "Think about it. Red here, she's already dead. You pitch her into the sweat bath, net gain for the old Kingdom . . . zipperoony! 'Cause she doesn't belong here. But me, on the other hand . . . with my track record."

Ethan grinned malevolently at her display.

"Saucy bitch!" he muttered in anticipation

"Thanks. I'll take that as a compliment. We got a deal?"

"Come here," Ethan leered.

Faith swaggered up to Ethan who quickly released his grip on Willow and sank his fingers into Faith's long black hair. He yanked her head back so that her body tottered on the edge of the precipice over the lava pit. Oz ran forward, pulling Willow away.

"You okay, Red?" Faith called out to the group.

"Yeah . . ." Willow gasped in Oz's arms.

"All right, weasel boy," Faith said, confronting Ethan Rayne. . . now . . . gimme the stone!"

Ethan almost laughed but suddenly stopped realizing he was holding a fully trained Slayer.

"Scott said you were stupid," she grinned.

In a flash, Faith snatched Ethan's hand, broke his grip on her hair and twisted his arm up around behind his back. Forcing him to his knees, she tipped his head forward so that half his body hung out beyond the path over the edge of the lava pit.

"I want that stone, Now!" she demanded.

Ethan extended his free hand up over his head. In his fist was grasped the piece of tattered cloth wrapped around the fragment of the first Tablets of the Laws. As Faith reached out to snatch it away, Ethan opened his palm, and the scorched fragment of the Decalogue dropped out of his hand. It sailed down through the fumes and glowing red light, finally striking the surface of the lava pit where it disintegrated with a tiny flash.

"Oops! How clumsy of me!" he quipped sarcastically.

In a fury, Faith released her grip on Ethan, stepped back and planted her foot in a furious kick directly in his midsection. The force of the blow sent him flying out off the cliff's edge and spinning head over heels down to the seething pool of lava."

"Oops! How clumsy of me!" she shouted.

"BLOODY HELL!" his voice echoed back in the final seconds.

A flash of red light and a puff of smoke billowed up above the rim of the precipice out of the lava pit. For a moment, none of the Scooby Gang moved. Faith stomped her foot on the stone path.

"DAMN!" she growled.

"It's gone . . ." Willow said, her voice empty of all emotion, "Our only chance is gone."

"No! . . . no . . ." Scott gasped as he struggled to get the group's attention. The others turned to Scott and Buffy. They all quickly gathered around him. Willow, still supported by Oz, knelt down by Scott's side.

"Scott . . . what do we do?" she asked. "We've lost the stone . . . that was 'touched by the finger of God.'"

"No . . . Buffy . . . Willow, this is not the way it's going to end!" Scott whispered, struggling to speak. "I can see what He can't. The answer is all around us!"

"What is Scott?" Buffy pleaded.

Suddenly a familiar voice rang out from behind the Slayerettes. Willow recognized the tone of "Command" and although each fought back in their own way, every one of the expedition was force to turn and face its source.

There standing on the edge of the precipice where he fell into the lava pit just moments before was what appeared to be Ethan Rayne. His arms were folded across his chest and his grin even more malicious than before.

"Are you babbling your riddles again, Rarak?"

"But he just got killed!" Xander exclaimed, "What the Hell's he doing back?"

Ethan chuckled at the question. Faith took a few steps towards the image of Ethan. She stopped just in front of him and studied him up and down.

"Hello, Faith," Ethan said pleasantly.

"Hey, there . . . Mr. D," she smiled back.

"Holy shit . . ." Angel exclaimed under his breath.

"Like Father, like Son . . ." Oz muttered.

"No kidding . . ." Buffy agreed. Faith couldn't take her eyes off of the image of Ethan Rayne.

"It's time, huh?" she asked, the simple question loaded with the payoff for her lifetime of mistakes.

"Almost," the image answered.

"Would you mind if I beat the shit outta you?"

"Take your best shot," Ethan smiled.

Faith swung hard. It was an obvious and straightforward attack. Her fist passed through Rayne as if he had no corporeal substance. As it did, she marveled at how the prickly feeling on her skin was like when she tried to punch out the Angel of Death in an effort to protect Buffy.

Watching from next to Buffy and Scott, Willow whispered to Oz.

"Oz, with the stone gone, this may be the end. I'm gonna go for it."

"What? What are you going to do, Will?" he responded, tightening his grip on her shoulder. She answered with steely fury, far beyond just "Willow tough."

"I'm gonna give Mr. D. a little _material_ form!"

"Will! If you do that, you'll drain all the strength from the spell keeping your body alive!"

"I know," she answered as she quickly kissed him, "Bye, Wolfy."

Willow reached out her hand and twisted it in a circular motion. For a moment her blue eyes blazed like glowing sapphires then suddenly turned a deep black against the pasty color of death on her face.

At the same time, Faith took another swing at Ethan. Instead of her fist passing through him, the blow struck Ethan hard against the jaw. With a look of total shock on his face, the image recoiled from the punch.

"Hey!" Faith exclaimed with glee, "Did you do that you, Red?"

"Go for it!" Willow shouted back as her strength rapidly faded.

"ALL RIGHT!"

Faith landed blow after blow to Ethan's face and midsection. He doubled up, groaning and squirming with shock and surprise.

"Man!" she shouted as she swung her fists over and over, "Vamps, demons, horny guys and now punching out Mr. D himself! Is this the best or what!"

The others stared in total amazement as Faith's fists flew rapid fire to Ethan's stomach.

"Hey, Cords!" she yelled, "Get over here!"

Cordelia broke away from the group, even as Xander made a futile effort to grab her and hold her back. She ran up to Faith's side.

"Do your thing, babe!" Faith stepped aside for the head cheerleader. Cordelia planted her knee as hard as she could in Ethan Rayne's groin. Ethan dropped to his knees and swayed back and forth with the pain. Everyone watching winced.

"That was a definite high C," Oz couldn't resist the crack.

"Okay, get outta here," Faith pulled Cordelia away, "Fun's almost over." Cordelia ran back to the group. As she reached Xander's side, she winked at him.

"Aren't you glad I don't still hate you!"

Xander's eyes almost popped out of his head, and he couldn't help but have a thought flash of a broom closet.

At the same time, Ethan looked up at Faith and waved his hand in front of him. Willow gasped, feeling the power of her materialization spell severed. Ethan rose up in front of Faith, somehow seeming taller than he actually was.

"You finished?"

"Guess so . . ." she smirked back, "So how was I? Was it good for you?"

Ethan waved his hand in front of him once more. The same force that struck Scott earlier, slammed into the Slayer, sending her flying off the path down to the lava pool. As she disappeared from view, her cheery voice rang out.

"Bye, guys! See ya in the next world!"

The Scooby Gang stared in horror at the precipice where Faith stood seconds before. A quick cloud of steam and foul smelling sulfur swirled up from below. The image of Ethan turned towards them. His face appeared flushed, his eyes glowing and his teeth, now sharper and more pointed, protruded over his lips.

"And now, I understand you little twits have some _business_ with me?" he leered, "Oh, and Rarak? Keep out of it! I warned you! Down here you're under my command."

"You don't tell me what to do!" Scott fired back as he struggled to force his body into a sitting position,

"Hhmm," the image of Ethan sauntered towards them, "Where have I heard that before? Ethan always said you were a pill that way . . . And now, ladies and gents, I believe you owe me . . . a little stone trinket of some sort?"

Buffy and the others were frozen in silence.

"Come, come! You have the audacity to challenge me for the soul of Rupert Giles! . . . and have nothing to bargain with? Pretty pathetic, if you ask me. There aren't even seven of you!"

Suddenly Scott began quietly laughing. At the same time, his body was wracked by choking and gasping but he managed to laugh nonetheless. He grabbed Buffy's arm and pulled himself up.

"We've won, guys!" he said, "He's going to rain all Hell down on us! But don't let him fool you! Hold on to your love . . . each of you! He can't fight that!"

"You really should stop babbling, Rarak," Rayne said sarcastically, trying to dismiss Scott's statement. At the same time, the image of Ethan Rayne began to waver.

"You can't even count!" Scott yelled at Mr. D. "You're stupider than Ethan! _I'm __number __seven_, you asshole!"

"Shut up, Rarak!"

Scott quickly turned to Buffy and explained urgently.

"Remember, everything you're going to see is a lie! Don't believe it!"

"SHUT UP, RARAK!"

"Throw it in his face, Buffy! As hard as you can!"

"What, Scott?" she asked in desperation, not understanding what he was trying to say, "Throw what?"

"Anything! Everything!" he grinned in triumph. "We don't need the stone! It's what the stone represents!"

"DAMN YOU, RARAK!" Mr. D screamed as he began losing control of the image of Ethan Rayne.

The figure standing before the Scoobies was struck with spasms. The color of its skin turned a brilliant red as if the body were being subjected to intense heat from within. Rays of concentrated light like laser beams shot out of Ethan Rayne's disintegrating body.

Mr. D suddenly raised his shaking arms over his head as if he were reaching up to the billowing black clouds in order to draw them down as a curtain of poison over what was happening. His crumbling face and body contorted, their shape twisting like an image passing through wavy red glass in a nightmare fun house.

As Ethan brought his arms down in a rush, he yelled in a piercing fury that made everyone jam their fingers in their ears to block out the deafening screech. Particles of disintegrating flesh tumbled from Ethan Rayne's face to be replaced by the livid skin of something that wasn't only spawned in Hell but was there from the beginning.

Instantly a thunderous explosion knocked Buffy, Angel and the others to the ground. A blinding flash of red light accompanied the roar, and with it, Buffy and the others were scattered.

TO BE CONTINUED!

* * *

><p>As usual, if you enjoyed this installment, please leave a review.<p>

Pax,

Petronius


	10. Chapter 9  The True Avernus

**The Descent to Avernus - Part 9 **

**_By Gaius Petronius_**

DISCLAIMER:  
>Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and every once in a while, torture them. No infringement is intended.<p>

**CONTENT ****NOTE**  
>The following story contains scenes of graphic violence and a little raunchy language. The sequel to <span>The <span>Better Path, The Descent to Avernus appeared originally in script format on the Slayer Fanfic Archive in late season 3, 1999. Heavily influenced by the Columbine High School massacre which occurred at the same time, the story was dedicated with love and hope to the children of Littleton, Colorado. The lyrics to "Secrets and Lies" are the property of G. Petronius, copyright 1999. For the full story of Johannes Martel, see my Buffy novellas, Carpe Diem and If I Should Die Before I Wake.

**Chapter 9 – The True Avernus.**

The thunderous roar followed by the blaring of school fire alarms left Buffy briefly stunned. In a moment, she was lying flat on her back in the Library. She had no idea how she got there. She remembered just minutes before she had been standing on the brink of a lava pit somewhere in the heart of the Hell, Avernus, the Demon Dimension, whatever anyone wanted to call it.

Willow was dead, Faith had perished horribly and Scott was almost torn to pieces. In the last seconds, he had told her how to fight the image of what had been Ethan Rayne, but now clearly a manifestation of the Ruler of the Kingdom of Death. The entity they were confronting even answered to Faith's sarcastic nickname of "Mr. D."

However none of that mattered at this instant. All around her, fire and flaming volumes fell as one stack after another toppled. She shook her head trying to get her bearings. As she looked up, she could see Angel standing over her, warding off the rain of flaming books and holding up one collapsing set of shelving with his back.

"ANGEL!" she managed to shout over the overwhelming din, "Where the hell are we?"

"I don't know!" he gasped as he fended off the rain of fire.

"I can't move! It's like something has me tied down!"

Angel dropped to his knees beside Buffy, still shielding her with his body. He raised her to a sitting position. Both had to yell to be heard over the ear splitting fire alarm and the general roar of destruction all around them.

"Shit! We're back in the Library!" she exclaimed as feeling and movement returned to her arms and legs.

"No! It only looks like it!" Angel answered, "Remember what Scott said!" Buffy could barely hear him.

"What? Where's everybody else?" She stared out from her vantage spot on the floor at the chaos in the library.

By the library door, Cordelia lay prostrate, her throat slit. Above her, three vampires had just finished running Xander through with a sword. They dropped his inert body sprawling across hers as if he were trying, in a final futile act, to protect her. Their blood mingled in one spreading pool. For a second, Buffy wanted to scream but no sound issued from her mouth.

By the check out desk, Oz, now transformed into his werewolf subconscious furiously beat back assault after assault of vampires. On the floor motionless beneath his legs lay Willow, a stake protruding from her chest. Finally, a second wave of vampires armed with crossbows, stormed through the door and released a hail of darts at Oz. Thrown back against the check out desk, he dropped to the floor, his body returning to its peaceful human form.

Scott leaned against one of the upright stacks. His body lay twisted and contorted, his face bloody and his eyes still glassed over. Nevertheless, he was still breathing.

Suddenly a familiar shout came to Buffy's ears. It was Giles.

"NO! NO! Buffy! Get away! It's a trap!"

Buffy jerked her head towards Giles' office. Through the open office door she could see him restrained by several vampires. At his side stood the image of Ethan Rayne.

"Giles, I'm coming!" she yelled as she staggered to her feet.

"NO, BUFFY!"

Marshaling her last remaining strength, she leaped out from amidst the blazing stacks into the middle of the library. Followed by Angel, back to back, both battled a seemingly endless wave of undead.

How she found the stake, she had no idea, but she swung and jabbed over and over, reducing every assailant who got in too close to a cloud of exploding dust.

For a few moments, she and Angel appeared to hold their own against the onslaught. At the same time, Ethan, quite satisfied with himself, glanced smugly around at the wreckage of the library. He suddenly waved his hand dismissively at the lackey vampires surrounding him.

"That was pretty good, boys. You can back off now."

At Ethan's command, the minions drew away from Buffy and Angel. Breathing heavily, the two stared around them, waiting for a renewal of the assault. The image of Ethan signaled to one of the vampires in the office who dragged Giles out into the library.

"Now comes the fun part. Your turn . . ."

Without warning, the vampire sank its fangs into Giles' neck, sucking the life out of him in a matter of seconds. Before Giles' head dropped forward, the vampire quickly slit its own wrist and jammed the flowing blood into the Watcher's open mouth.

At the same time, Buffy's eyes widened with panic and terror as if this final act of brutality had robbed her of any last strength to intervene. The flames from the burning stacks now spread and began to lick up the walls. The crackling of timbers along with the scream of the fire alarms echoed in her ears.

Barely heard amidst the noise, Scott began moaning, then crying out to Buffy.

". . . no . . . No! . . . Buffy, No! It's not real!"

She couldn't hear him. Hanging on to the crumbling stack with his one remaining good arm, Scott dragged himself to his feet. His face twisted with pain, he could barely balance with his shattered leg dangling uselessly at his side.

Buffy's eyes remain riveted on Giles. To her horror, his still form suddenly moved once more. Giles looked up and met Buffy's gaze. Across his face now sprouted the malformations and distortions of the vampire rage.

"NO!" she screamed.

"Pretty good effect, don't you think?" Mr. D snickered.

Buffy stepped back but as she did, she sensed something from behind her. As she spun around she was confronted not by Angel but rather the hideous form of Angelus.

"Hey, Buff!"

Instinctively, Buffy drew her hand holding the stake back in preparation to strike it home. She felt herself hesitate momentarily.

"Go on! Do it, Buff! You always wanted to!" Angelus grinned, baring a full set of yellowing fangs.

Buffy channeled all her strength. At the same time, Scott, seeing what was about to happen, lurched the few feet from the book stack and threw himself between Buffy and Angelus.

"No! Buffy!" he managed to gasp out.

It was too late for Buffy to restrain the blow meant for Angelus. As Scott slipped between them, the stake in Buffy's hand struck Scott's chest sinking in deep. Buffy let go, leaving the shaft protruding while her eyes screamed silently in agony at what she had just done. As he began to totter, Buffy quickly wrapped her hands around his face and her eyes begged him for forgiveness.

". . . no . . ." she was able to sputter out in a tearful whisper.

A look of peace swept across Scott's face, as if the pain and torment were finally receding. Behind him, the image of Angelus faded leaving a shocked Angel staring at Scott as he gasped out his last breath.

". . . it's not real . . . only what we do to each other . . ." Scott was barely able to formulate the words.

His eyes closed. As he sank to the floor, Buffy draped her arms around him, catching his twisted body. She supported him for only a fraction of a second. Then his form dissolved into a faint blue vapor which quickly dissipated, passing through her shaking embrace to vanish into thin air. Buffy's stake which moments before was so firmly imbedded in Scott's heart, now dropped harmlessly to the floor with a clatter.

". . . Scott . . ." her agonized whisper seemed to be heard above the scream of the fire alarms.

Buffy looked up at Angel. His face, too, was etched with the horror of what he had just witnessed.

"Buffy! . . . What did you just do! . . ."

"You . . . you were . . . Angelus . . ." she stammered in confusion.

"But Buffy, how . . ."

Before Angel could complete the question, his face contorted in a sudden death agony. Instantaneously, his whole body exploded into dust and disintegrated before Buffy's eyes. As the dust cascaded to the floor, revealed behind where Angel stood was the vampire image of Giles, holding another stake and sporting a ghoulish grin. Buffy slowly looked up from the spot where both Angel and Scott perished. Her eyes meet those of Giles. As she gazed at him, she felt her panic recede and in its place came a cold and furious anger. She finally understood, seizing her fear and casting it aside.

"You're not Giles," she said firmly.

The vampires standing around Ethan suddenly stopped snickering.

"You're not Giles!" she shouted over the fire alarm, challenging the vampires all around her, ". . . none of you are real! That's what Scott meant!"

Buffy spun defiantly to face the image of Ethan Rayne.

"None of this is real! It's all my own Hell! The creation of my own mind that you're using against me! . . . And it's stopping right now!"

The grin on Mr. D's face collapsed into a surly frown. He surveyed the vampires around him, shook his head and sighed.

Oh well, it was fun while it lasted." He waved his hand dismissively, "Sorry boys . . . playtime's over. Time to get _real.__"_

As Buffy glared at the image of Ethan, the flames leaped up all about her, obscuring the wreck of the library, Giles and the vampires, and the fallen bodies of Xander, Cordelia, Willow and Oz. The red glow from the lapping blaze intensified until it became a blinding flash once more. Buffy shut her eyes and winced. At the same time, the blaring scream of the fire alarm subsided. In its place returned the deep subterranean rumbling and the steady moan of the damned.

As Buffy opened her eyes, she found herself standing on the path at the edge of the lava pit once more. Less than twenty feet in front of her loomed the image of Ethan Rayne.

"So, your little magic trick bombed out," she said coldly as she got her bearings, "And we're back in the playground."

"Slayer, where do you really think you are?"

". . . Hell . . ." Buffy answered, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Hardly . . ." Mr. D grinned as he stifled a chuckle, "Actually all of this . . . is closer to heaven."

Buffy scowled.

"You see, Hell . . . true eternal damnation, is incomprehensible in its horror," the image of Ethan continued, "It is the one thing the human mind and soul cannot fathom . . . _Hell__ is __non-existence_."

Buffy's eyes widened with the revelation.

"Oh, you understand . . . good, good. Most Slayers I've had the privilege to meet have been far less insightful . . . even your good friend Faith there."

Buffy didn't move and yet couldn't take her eyes off the image of Ethan.

"You see, we don't fear Death itself or the realm of torments we believe to follow," Mr. D explained, "Those are our own creations, fantasies for our comfort. Rather, since all reality must be perceived through the vehicle of the soul and mind, if that soul ceases to exist, . . . upon death . . . so too does the reality. Self non existence is the horror beyond comprehension. Hell if you will."

"But then . . . what is all this?" Buffy asked looking around her.

"Merely my training ground where I prepare souls for actual Hell," Mr. D chuckled again, "This is where we soften them up! You see, after centuries of torment, they welcome gladly the descent to the true Avernus, the black empty pit of Nothingness. They choose, not I! Willingly! Only you, Slayer, stand in the way of expanding this, my true realm."

For a few moments the Slayer said nothing. Finally she shook her head as if it all was too obvious.

"Scott was right. You _are_ a liar!" Buffy said, the challenge in her voice unmistakable. The image of Ethan Rayne shifted uneasily.

"You've really spent too much time hanging around with that Rarak. Bad influence you know."

Buffy swaggered up toward Mr. D. She had him and she knew it. Everything was suddenly falling into place. As she spoke, she marveled with a smile how much she sounded like Faith.

"You know something, Mr. D? A real special friend of mine, Johannes Martel wrote once that nothing since the beginning has been created or destroyed, only changed. And that means everything from the dirt under our feet all the way up to and including our souls. So your little pit of nothingness, your non-existence of the soul, it's bullshit! It's just another scam, just like all of this!"

The image of Ethan stared back at Buffy. For the first time, she could see traces of fear creasing his face. Instinctively she went in hard for the weakness.

"So you're a liar, number one! Number two, Giles said that Hell is really just our own rotten little place that we wallow in until we finally get fed up and realize there's a better path. That's number two!"

Buffy strutted even closer to Ethan who recoiled.

"And number three! A really cool old friend of Willow's, Mr. MacDuffie, explained to me that since nothing from the beginning has been either created or destroyed, _anything_ could be 'touched by the finger of God!' Trees, water, rocks, . . . Scott tried to tell me the same thing. 'It's not the stone, but what it represents.' I didn't quite get it at first."

Buffy bent down and scooped up a fistful of dirt.

"Even this . . . it all came from the creation . . . so it was touched by the Great Creative Force! The Finger of God!"

"Bitch . . . you Bitch!" Mr. D growled. He could have just vanished or struck her down on the spot, but something more powerful had him restrained. He squirmed as if he were clenched in the grip of a giant invisible fist.

"So, Mr. D!" Buffy furiously hurled the fistful of dirt at the image of Ethan Rayne. Instead of passing through him, the dirt lodged in his face, mouth and eyes.

"DAMN YOU!" he screamed, gagging at the same time. The ground below Buffy's feet began to shake but she held her balance with ease.

"I Demand the return of the soul of Rupert Giles! In the name of the Great Creative Force!"

Buffy bent down and grabbed up another fistful. She hurled that at the image of Ethan as well.

"And I Demand the return of the soul of Angel!"

She bent down again, over and over, and with each name, threw another fistful of dust into Ethan's face.

"And the soul of Scott Hope! And Willow Rosenberg! And Oz! And Xander! And Cordelia! And Jesse! And all the souls you've taken without cause for the past three hundred years!"

Mr. D screamed wildly as he tried to scratch the clinging, blinding dust from out of his eyes. Suddenly his body began to twist and lose its cohesiveness. Still writhing, the physical entity before her dissolved into a nebulous, gaseous black shape, both with form and without.

Buffy held her ground as she swept up one final fistful of dust and sand.

"And one last thing . . . I'm so frickin' tired of dealing with you and all this shit of yours! . . . I want everything returned the way it's supposed to be! . . . I want everything back to normal!"

"You really don't want that one, Slayer Bitch!" the voice of Mr. D rang out threatening from the black cloud.

"I want that one most of all!" she shouted back, her anger rising to an hysterical fury.

She hurled the fistful of dust into the black cloud seething in front of her. The voice of Ethan Rayne emitted one final scream that echoed back from the surrounding cliffs as if it were a trumpet blast against the walls of Avernus itself. Everything around Buffy, the path, the looming cliffs, the boiling lava pool, and the black cloud that was "Mr. D" all vanished in a sudden blinding flash of white light.

As it did, Buffy felt the energy from the brilliance pass through her, transforming every molecule of her being. It was warm and all her muscles suddenly relaxed for the first time since she had been called as a Slayer. It enveloped her whole physical and spiritual existence, and she knew she had no choice but to let go.

Still she fought for a moment more, resisting as best she could.

"The end is the beginning and the beginning is the end," she thought. Her heart ached with the pain of the impending loss and the fear of what would come. Before she finally allowed herself to be overwhelmed by the force all around her, she quickly uttered a silent prayer.

"Please, . . . Let me remember . . ."

* * *

><p>TO BE CONTINUED!<p>

If you enjoyed this part, please leave a review.

Pax,

Petronius


	11. Epilogue  The Moment

**The Descent to Avernus - Epilogue **

**By Petronius**

DISCLAIMER:  
>Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I only borrow them, mess with their heads, make them cry and every once in a while, torture them. No infringement is intended.<p>

The lyrics to "Secrets and Lies" are the property of Gaius Petronius, copyright 1999.

**Epilogue – The Moment.**

"Buffy! You don't want to be late for your first day!" Joyce Summers' eternally cheerful voice rang out from downstairs.

The blinding flash of white light was gone. Had it ever even occurred? Buffy lay wrapped in her comforters on her bed. Scattered about her bedroom, now bathed in the morning sun, were unopened cardboard boxes and trunks. Her eyes open wide, she sat up sharply. Fearful that the reassuring scene around her might only be another illusion, she studied every one of the familiar objects in her room. Cautiously she reached out and touched the shade of the lamp on her bedside table.

The fresh aroma of coffee wafted up from the kitchen. Suddenly she realized she was hungry, ravenously hungry. That was it! It had to still be the Demon Dimension. She was _never_ this hungry in the morning! And the luscious smell of bacon and eggs! Her mom always set out a bowl of cereal. She never made something so time consuming and . . . _normal!_

Buffy climbed out of bed as the details of her final demand came rushing back. She wanted everything to be returned to normal.

During the drive to school, Buffy stared out the window at the hundreds of students walking into Sunnydale High or lounging around on the school steps before classes. As Joyce pulled their SUV up to the curb, Buffy dropped down the visor vanity mirror and stared at her reflection. Although Joyce interpreted this as her daughter merely checking her make up, Buffy saw a different face reflected back at her, one that was clearly almost two years younger. She said nothing although her mind was doing somersaults trying to put together the conflicting sensory input.

"Okay, have a good time," her mother said while the car sat idling at the curb, "I know you're going to make friends right away. And Buffy?"

Bewildered, Buffy looked back at Joyce Summers.

"I've made arrangements for the librarian, a Mr. Giles, to tutor you so you can get off on the right foot. Now I want you to stop into the school library as soon as you can and introduce yourself."

"Uh . . . yeah . . . right, Mom."

"And Buffy . . ." her mother's smile betrayed a familiar trace of desperation. "Try not to get kicked out."

"I . . . I . . . I promise . . ."

Buffy jumped out of the SUV and began climbing the steps in front of Sunnydale High. Through the din of voices she heard a familiar one rapidly approaching. She turned to look as Xander on his skateboard, weaved haphazardly through the crowds of students on the sidewalk.

"Excuse me! Excuse me! Coming through! Excuse me!" he shouted as he dodged the human obstacles, missing collisions by only fractions of an inch.

Xander turned to check out Buffy as she walked up the stairs. Their eyes locked for a second. Before she could call out a warning, Xander crashed into the stairway railing and wiped out. Her first instinct was to go back and help him but before she could move, Willow suddenly appeared standing over the prostrate Xander. She glanced momentarily up at Buffy, but there is no sign of recognition on her face. Buffy turned away and ran up the front steps inside.

The library was almost pitch dark. One or two small table lamps cast a gloomy illumination. Buffy nervously opened the door and stepped inside.

"Is anybody here?" she asked quietly.

Suddenly, Giles, holding a book, stepped out of the shadows. Buffy jumped. There was no sign on his face that he recognized her.

"Can I help you?"

"Giles?"

The Librarian raised his eyebrows at the familiarity of the greeting.

"Oh. You must be Miss Summers. I was told you were coming."

"You're alive. . ."

"I should hope so," he answered, now thoroughly puzzled.

Buffy walked up to Giles and stared at him. She desperately searched his face for any sign that he knew her. She then took his hand and rubbed it in hers as if trying to reassure herself that he was actually real and not just another one of Mr. D's nightmares sent to torture her.

"Uh . . . Miss Summers . . ." he stammered, now embarrassed. She looked sadly at him.

"You don't remember anything, do you?"

"Remember? Remember what, Miss Summers? Have we met before?"

As Buffy gazed up at her Watcher, a sense of despair, of being now completely alone, washed over her face. It was gone, all gone. She knew it now down in her soul yet she couldn't turn her gaze away from Giles. A single tear welled up in her eye and ran down her cheek. Giles stared back at her, a blank expression on his face.

Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, the look on his face was transformed from puzzlement to something else. He reached gently out with his hand to the tear running down her cheek and softly wiped it away with his fingertips.

". . . sshh, Buffy, sshh . . ." he whispered as if in a forgotten dream, ". . . you will not die . . . you will not . . ."

"Giles?" A flood of hope surged through her voice.

Suddenly the light of warm recognition glowed from behind Giles' glasses. A look of joy, as of a father whose lost daughter has returned safely, spread across his face. He wrapped his arms around Buffy.

"Oh, Buffy! . . . Dear God, Buffy!" and he felt the wetness running down his cheeks as well.

Buffy said nothing, only burying her face in the rough tweed of Giles' jacket. The scratchy feel of the wool was strangely comforting as she rubbed the tears on her face into the material. She then pulled back from his embrace.

"Giles, you do remember!" She wanted to shout out that she was no longer alone.

Giles stared around at the library, now startlingly different in his mind. It was too much for him to take in all at once.

"I . . . I . . . have to sit down."

Giles dropped into a chair by one of the study desks. He took his glasses off and ran his hand across his face and through his hair. Buffy pulled up a metal folding chair and sat beside him.

". . . it's all different . . ." he muttered, "_Back to normal_."

"Giles? What's happened?"

"That's what the Necropolis Text meant. . . . 'The end _is_ the beginning . . . and the beginning is the end.'"

Giles looked directly at Buffy.

"It means that . . . now . . . I am just a librarian . . . there is no Hellmouth . . . and vampires don't exist, except in the darkest recesses of our collective subconscious. . . . and that Hell really is merely our own private place."

". . . but . . . what am I?" Buffy asked the question that had been plaguing her since she woke up in her bedroom.

"You? . . ." Giles answered confidently with a father's love in his eyes, "You are a beautiful young woman . . . with a wondrous life of discovery ahead of you!"

"But Giles . . . if I'm not a Slayer anymore, . . . what _am_ I?"

"A student along with every young person here in this school . . . all of you on that incredible path to discovering _who_ you are!"

Buffy was not as enamored with the prospect as Giles. She looked away from him, the sadness still evident in her eyes.

"Why do we remember . . . and the others don't?"

"You mean Willow and Xander and Cordelia and Oz? Maybe it has to do with the fact that there was something inside us special which led us onto the path we had to travel. I as a Watcher, you and Faith as Slayers. You were always right on one point. We had little choice in the matter. As for the others, _they chose_ . . . they chose to stand by us."

"But what about Willow? She was my Watcher, if only for a little while. And Faith!"

Giles thought for a moment.

"Willow may not remember consciously as we do. But she probably does sense it nonetheless . . . in her heart. And Faith, our dear buzz bomb from Boston, she's probably too busy in the middle of her new little adventure on that bus right about now to care. "

"But what about the others? Do you think they'll ever remember?"

"Perhaps in their dreams," Giles nodded, smiling. Buffy hesitated before she slowly asked the next question.

"And . . . Angel?"

Giles pondered the question for a moment. He then spoke quietly to Buffy, trying to be as soothing as possible. He could see Buffy steeling herself for the answer she knew was coming.

"Since there are no such things as vampires . . . Angel was never harvested . . . He lived, grew . . . and never suffered the hundreds of years of agony . . . the curse . . . none of it."

Buffy hung her head, knowing what Giles' words meant. The librarian sensed her sorrow and argued silently with himself that it was wrong. The look on Buffy's face tore at his heart. This was a new, wonderful world. How could there be such pain in a world so full of promise.

"Buffy, you were his redeemer!" he said, trying to make her understand. "He and all his generations that came after him . . . they bless you . . . Without you . . ."

He couldn't go on. Buffy, her eyes glistening, stared up at Giles. She struggled to draw some comfort from his words.

"Did _he_ know?"

"I'm sure of it," Giles answered, "And I also believe, his soul, and the souls of all those freed from the horrors of vampirism, watch over you to this day."

Buffy bowed her head again and, unable to hold back the flood of emotions that had overwhelmed her since she awoke that morning, wept quietly. Giles reached out and gently drew her head in to rest against his shoulder.

"sshhh, Buffy . . . ssshhh," he whispered

The rest of the morning classes went by in a blur. At noon recess, Buffy sat outside on the steps leading up to the front door of Sunnydale High. With eyes closed, she sunned her face. Students walked up and down past her. She sighed. A short while later, Willow came down the steps and sat beside her.

"Hey!" she said, her voice overly perky which Buffy read as nervous compensation upon meeting someone new.

"Hi," Buffy answered as she opened her eyes. "Willow, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and you're Buffy, right? You're new."

"How'd you know my name?" Buffy asked, at the same time searching for some sign of recognition.

"I work with Mr. Giles tutoring. He says you're our newest victim!"

"I don't know whether that sounds so good or not," Buffy smiled in spite of her gloomy attitude. Willow immediately went into sensitive self-defensive mode.

"Oh, no, no. It's okay. Mr. Giles is a little funny that way . . . being a librarian and all."

Buffy nodded and smiled. Some things hadn't changed. She then looked at Willow and asked wistfully.

"Yeah . . . Willow? . . . Would you be my friend? I think I could use a friend right about now."

"Oh! Wow! Sure!" Willow answered surprised. It had been so long since someone had even suggested such a thing. "But . . . since you're looking for friends . . ."

She leaned forward and spoke secretively in Buffy's ear.

"You might want to go over and introduce yourself to that cute guy over there. He's been eying you for the last ten minutes."

Buffy followed Willow's gaze. When she saw who Willow was pointing out, she could feel her heart skip a beat. On the other side of the steps, visible through the crowds of passing students, was Scott Hope sitting on the siding. He had a small sketchpad balanced on his knee and a pencil in his hand. Between quick glances up at Buffy, he busily drew on the open page in front of him.

"Yeah, I think I will. Thanks."

Willow smiled again as Buffy stood up and started to walk across the steps. Halfway there she stopped, unsure and turned to look back at Willow. Willow waved her hand as if to say, "Go on! Go for it!" With a deep breath, Buffy continued walking. As she reached Scott, he looked up self consciously and closed his sketchpad.

"Hi," she said hesitantly.

"Hi," he replied just as nervous.

"Can I see?" she indicated the sketchbook.

"Uh, well . . ."

She suddenly realized he didn't know who she was.

"Oh, sorry . . . I'm Buffy."

"I'm Scott," he said looking back up at her.

"Can I, . . . please?" She pointed at the sketchpad again.

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"Is it supposed to be funny?"

"No." Scott answered, puzzled.

"Then I won't laugh."

She sat down beside him. Scott opened the pad and passed it to Buffy. There, as it did in another lifetime, was her portrait staring back at her. The impressionistic pencil strokes of her hair, the sharp eyes, the firm self confident mouth, all seemed to gaze alive from off the page. A sad look crossed Buffy's face, and she sighed.

"It's really wonderful," she said quietly looking at Scott, and passing the pad back to him. "You're real good."

"Thanks. . . . uh, ya know, I was wondering. . . . maybe we could go out sometime?" he asked taking a chance, "How about tomorrow night? They're having a Buster Keaton film festival downtown . . ."

"Uh . . . I don't think so." Buffy wanted to kick herself. She hadn't intended for it to come out that way.

There was a moment of awkward silence. Scott was obviously crushed by the rejection.

"Oh . . . okay," he stood to leave. "Well, I'll see ya around."

Buffy quickly grabbed Scott's arm and gently pulled him back down before he could walk away.

"No . . . I mean . . . I'd like to go out with you . . . but the Keaton, well, that's really not my thing."

"Oh," he sighed with relief, "Well, what do you want to do?"

Buffy looked down at the concrete steps and smiled sadly once more. She spoke slowly as if she were trying to remember a dream.

"I know this real cool all night coffee shop on Main Street." She paused and looked back up at him. "The ice cream is fabulous and the hot fudge is to die for."

"Oh, wow. You know that place, too! Great! That's cool."

The awkward silence descended between them again. Buffy stared at Scott, her face a mask of questions.

"Scott?" She wanted to talk to him, share so much. They stared into each other's eyes, he puzzled and she desperately searching for some hint that he remembered all that had passed between them.

"Buffy? Are you okay?"

This was the moment, make or break. She reached out and took his hands in hers. She saw the look of surprise on his face.

"Scott, . . . I'm gonna do a head first, here."

"Huh?"

Buffy wrinkled her brow as she tried to remember. She knew she was terrible with memorizing, facts, dates but this was different. She had kept the sheet torn from his notebook in her bedside table and read it over and over. This was critical, and she understood that the whole path of events that would unfold from here forward depended on what she did in this moment, right here and now.

She thought for a few seconds more then looked at Scott, her green eyes gazing deep into his blue. She recited hesitantly what she remembered from their last morning at Sunnydale High in another life and a different time.

"You've shown me in my heart,  
>newly sprung from its prison,<br>that the walls 'round the Kingdom  
>of Death were my making.<br>And the Descent to Avernus  
>in my mind's eye only."<p>

Scott continued to stare at Buffy, not understanding what she had said. The look on Buffy's face verged on desperation as she feared the opportunity passing and he wouldn't remember.

"Please, Scott . . . you promised!" she cried out as she felt the moment where they both stood together on the pathway to Avernus drifting away.

Then suddenly, Scott's expression began to change as if something deep in his mind was desperately clawing its way to the surface. He didn't understand what it was, but his face betrayed his frantic search for its meaning. Suddenly his blue eyes met hers. He began slowly to recite as the meaning returned to him in a warm rush.

"But I shall take comfort,  
>knowing all I need do . . .<br>is gaze up above me,  
>and there . . .<br>I shall see you . . . ! "

Scott broke into a huge smile. Buffy grinned back at him.

"Hey, Buffy!" he whispered, finally recognizing her.

"Hey, Scott!"

Like two lost travelers in the night finally reunited at the gates of dawn, Buffy and Scott fell into each others arms and held each other as tightly as they could.

"It's really you!" he whispered into her hair, "I thought it was all some horrible dream. And you were the bright light leading me to safety."

"Yeah! Me, too!" she spoke softly into his shoulder.

Across the steps, Willow, who had been watching the whole time, burst into her trademark grin.

"Cool!" she said to no one in particular. In another second, Xander and Jesse sauntered down the steps and sat beside her.

"Hey, Willow! What's up?" Xander said, his voice betraying both boredom and a Sunnydale High noontime desperation.

"Oh, nothing," she said, smiling to herself.

"Hey, you guys seen that new chick from L.A.?" Jesse said, "Man, she's a hotty!"

"I got first dibs asking her out!" Xander jumped in on his favorite topic, trying to pick up girls. "She been around out here, Will?"

"You're a little late, slow boys," she answered smugly.

"What?"

Willow nodded in the direction of Buffy and Scott in each other's arms. Xander and Jesse instantly spotted where she was pointing. Jesse shook his head while Xander moaned in disappointment.

"Aw, Man! What's with me, Will? I can't even get into the line to get stomped by girls anymore."

"Don't beat yourself up," she said almost to herself, "I got a funny feeling they know each other from somewhere."

"Oh well, that one's down," Jesse shrugged his shoulders, "I guess I'll ask Cordelia Chase out for the dance."

Xander and Willow stared at Jesse. Xander was quick on the come back.

"Jesse, my man. How many times does the 'She Demon From the Planet Zorkon' have to blow your ship out of the sky?"

"Yeah," Willow chimed in, "Like, you've got about as much chance dating Cordelia as Xander does, . . . or me going out with the lead guitarist in a rock band!"

"Hey! Easy, Will! I could handle Cordelia," Xander said getting all defensive, "In fact, I just may ask her out myself! Of course she's not exactly my favorite person. A date with the cheerleader queen is right up there behind, uh . . . spending Saturday night hanging out in the cemetery! . . . or maybe getting my head bit off!"

"So . . . who's up for the Bronze tonight?" Jesse said, ignoring his friends' well intentioned advice, "I hear they got a new band, Dingoes or something."

Willow's hand immediately shot up as if she were begging to be called on in class.

"Me, me, me!"

"Yeah, I hear the lead guitar player really rocks," Xander grinned, zeroing in on one of his best bud's obsessions ". . . Maybe we can set you two up, Will."

Xander leaned over to Willow and whispered to her.

"I think he's got red hair."

Willow slapped Xander on the shoulder.

"You keep your mouth shut, Xander Harris! Or, . . . or . . . I'll tell Cordelia Chase that you've got the hots for her!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Would, too!" she snapped back.

"That's the last time I tell you any of my secrets!" Xander got all huffy.

"Oh, sure! Like I don't know 'em all already! You know, Jesse, until he was six years old, Xander used to . . ."

"Will!" Xander interrupted her in a panic.

Willow grinned back at Xander.

Oblivious to the crowds of students and the squabble across the steps, Scott placed his arms on Buffy's shoulders and held her out at arm's length.

"I used to be so afraid to go to sleep at night . . . cause then I'd be back . . . there."

"It's okay . . . it's okay. Giles says it's all over," Buffy said quietly as she ran her hand gently across his face where there used to be bruises.

"But Buffy, I never want to forget it! Never! Because it's how I met you."

"That's what I prayed for as everything ended. That I'd remember."

"Looks like your prayers were answered," he said as he put his face next to hers.

Suddenly she drew back, hesitating, "Scott, . . . I'm not a Slayer anymore. I'm just . . . me. Whatever that is. Giles says . . ."

Buffy stopped in mid sentence. She gazed at him with uncertainty.

"Scott? Do you think you'll still like me . . . I mean . . . just me?"

"Giles is wrong," he answered confidently as he looked into her eyes, ". . . deep inside . . . you have a Slayer's heart. You _are_ still a Slayer. I can see that. You always will be."

"You can still . . . see stuff?" she asked surprised.

"Not like I used to, but . . ."

Scott turned his pad with Buffy's portrait towards her.

"I started drawing this about twenty minutes before you came out. I hadn't seen you in school. I didn't even know who you were. I bet you'll find out things about yourself, too."

Buffy smiled at him as she felt a surge of the old confidence for the first time since waking up that morning.

"Hey, I got an idea!" she suddenly bubbled. "Maybe I can turn Gilesy's tutoring into an aerobics class. It'll drive Willow and Giles crazy but should be fun. Wanna come?"

"Sure, gotta keep in practice. Who knows when I'm gonna get punched out again."

"Not while I'm around!" she said seductively as her strong arms pulled him in close to her.

"Listen, let's ditch outta here and go get that ice cream," he said when they separated, "Suddenly, I'm really . . . hungry."

Buffy broke out laughing.

"Perfect timing!" she snickered, "You're worse than Faith! Ya know it?"

Scott looked at Buffy with a confused expression on his face.

"Come on, let's get outta here!" she said as she felt a wave of the old LA Buffy rush to the surface. It was reassuring and strangely familiar. As long as she didn't get kicked out. That she had promised her Mom and was determined to keep.

"I feel like skipping class the first day of school! And there's a funny old shop I want to stop in on the way. Somebody there I'd like you to meet."

Buffy and Scott got up and slipped together down the stairs and inconspicuously out onto the street. As they approach the cemetery a few minutes later, Buffy instinctively turned towards the entrance gate. Scott grabbed her by the shoulder.

"Whoa! Where do you think you're going?"

Sorry, bad habit," she apologized, "It's going be tough for a while you know. You have be patient with me."

"Can I ask you a question?" he said as they wandered towards the center of town and left the cemetery far behind.

"Sure, shoot."

"How come you and Faith always laugh at me when I say I'm hungry? If I didn't know better, I'd think it was some kind of Slayer code for sweaty or horny or something."

Buffy stopped and turned to face Scott. She smiled and her eyes said it all. Catching the signals, Scott stared back at her. Slowly Buffy spread her arms around Scott and kissed him with a passion she imagined she would only share after dark. They remained locked in the embrace for a long time. Cars in the street raced by. Some drivers turned to stare and one car full of college students from Sunnydale U. honked the horn while the occupants whistled and shouted.

Finally Buffy slowly pulled her head back from Scott and grinned again.

"_In_ joke," she said quietly.

"Oh . . . _Oh!_"

The bell signaling the beginning of fifth period sent its jarring clatter through the walls of the library. Rupert Giles, the ever present book in hand, momentarily jumped as he stood behind the check out desk. Seconds later, Willow bounced through the door and aimed for her computer terminal.

"Hey, Giles," she sang out, fully refreshed by her hour out in the California sun.

"Hmm? Oh, hello," he replied, distracted by his book.

"I'm going down to Mr. MacDuffie's shop this afternoon," she said as she powered up her terminal, "He's got some fresh chamomile tea in. You want anything?"

"Oh, yes, I have a list I'll give you. . . . stomach still bothering you? You really should see a doctor about that. Get some pills maybe."

"Nah!" Willow waved off the suggestion, "They don't do anything. And I'm feeling a lot better, too. Besides, when we have tea, Mr. MacDuffie tells the neatest stories. Everything in his shop has a legend or something magical about it."

"It is quite an amazing little place," Giles nodded in agreement, "I enjoy visiting the old fellow myself. I think I'd like to tag along . . . if that's all right with you?"

"Sure! . . ." she replied, settling in as the browser window loaded, "Remember, though, you've got that appointment at 3:00 o'clock with Ms. Calendar about teaching you how to use the computerized card catalog."

Giles' eyes lit up with surprise. He smiled to himself and then sighed.

"I met our new student," Willow continued as she tapped at her keyboard.

"Uh, Miss Summers?"

"Her name's Buffy," Willow enjoyed correcting Giles. The opportunities were so few and far between. "I think I'm going to like her. We're already friends, you know."

"Excellent," he said remembering the events just before first period.

"And you know what's wild, too, Giles? . . . She's just how I envisioned her."

The librarian was momentarily startled.

"What?"

"In my stories. You know the ones Mr. MacDuffie's been helping me write about all the supernatural stuff I made up for here at school. She's perfect for my heroine. She battles demons and vampires and stuff. And everybody's in them! You, Xander, Mr. MacDuffie, even that snot Cordelia!"

Giles smiled to himself as he listened to Willow describe her fiction.

"And there's all kinds of romance," she rattled on, oblivious to his intense interest. "You have to have smootchies to make it real good, otherwise nobody'll read 'em. I have my character going out with a rock star . . . well, he plays in a band anyway."

"Sounds like you have it all plotted out," he replied, hoping she'd tell more. Willow continued wistfully but with a firm conviction that awed Giles.

"Yeah, . . . and there's a lot of sad stuff in 'em, too. People die, our best friends and all. Our hearts get broken . . . and we lose the things we love the most. . . . but we fight on anyway, because we do it not just to save the world, but to prove, . . . if only to ourselves when we're alone at night . . . that love is the most important thing of all."

Giles felt a chill despite his out of place heavy tweed jacket and the pleasant southern California temperature.

"Funny, that's just what I was reading here . . ." he replied, looking down into the open book he held before him.

He gazed silently into his book. Willow waited patiently for him to speak.

"Well, what is it, Giles?" she asked after a moment.

"Oh . . . yes, uh, it's a poem by a Welsh poet, Dylan Thomas. I think it fits your stories very well."

Giles read from his book.

"Though lovers be lost, love shall not.  
>And Death shall have no Dominion."<p>

There was a long pause.

"Wow, Giles! That is so cool!" she replied enthusiastically, "That's what they're all about!"

"I think they'll be wonderful stories," he said smiling slightly.

Willow, her grin spread from cheek to cheek, continued to look at Giles.

"Well! Don't just sit there looking at me like a cabbage!" he scolded, "Get to it! I'm going to need something to read."

"Oh, yeah! Right!" Willow redirected her attention to her terminal, opened her word processor and began merrily typing away on the keyboard.

Giles gazed off into the stacks as if he were seeing all the events of the past two years race by. He slowly closed his book and smiled with a confidence and sense of peace he hadn't known since his first days in Sunnydale.

"And Death shall have no Dominion," he said quietly and firmly to himself.

As Giles stood motionless behind the library check out desk, the only sound was a busy tapping coming from Willow's keyboard.

Miles away Buffy and Scott walked arm in arm on the sidewalk headed downtown. They stopped for a moment as she playfully poked him in the ribs. He tried to grab her arm but she slipped easily out of his grasp and latched on to his other wrist. Skillfully, she pulled it around behind his back while he put up little or no struggle against her. In that instant, Buffy had Scott immobilized. Laughing she released him. As he turned back to face her, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.

For just a second she felt the memories tug at her heart. She sensed the regret of what she was losing, what was being left behind but she quickly put it aside. It was part of her and always would be. Her prayer had been answered in ways she had never dreamed.

This moment, here, now, today was what she treasured. The great adventure that had truly been intended for her was now unfolding as it should. She let her mind wander, looking ahead.

That evening she and Scott would sit at the Bronze. Just before leaving for the coffee shop and private places beyond, she would listen to a young woman playing acoustic guitar, accompanied by soft electric base, sing the last verses of "Secrets and Lies."

"So the seasons are changing  
>And I refuse to disguise<br>All my feelings for you  
>'neath my secrets and lies.<p>

Now share where we're going,  
>Forget where we've been.<br>And I'll lay my heart open  
>For my new lover and friend.<p>

And I wonder in your arms  
>As you gaze into my eyes,<br>What use did we have  
>For all those secrets and lies."<p>

Buffy suddenly blinked. That was the future. A student on a skateboard zoomed up the sidewalk past the couple. Cars rumbled by on the street.

"The moment," she thought as she felt his strong arms around her. The moment. She and Scott remained in each other's embrace under the brilliant southern California noonday sun.

**FINIS**

(2/99 - 5/99, 12/25/11)

**Original dedication:**

The Descent to Avernus is dedicated with love and hope to the children of Littleton, Colorado.

Pax,  
>Petronius<p>

* * *

><p>If you enjoyed the story, please leave a review.<p>

For another story featuring Anson MacDuffie, see The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind.

For Buffy's relationship with telekinetic Johannes Martel check out Carpe Diem and the sequel, If I Should Die Before I Wake.


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